Now dying groans are heard; the fields are strow'd With falling bodies, and are drunk with blood.
"The Aeneid" by Virgil
After some discussion it was decided that the syllable must be "strew or strow" and then they waited to see if it was a good guess.
"Eight Cousins" by Louisa M. Alcott
The vault was open, and papers was strowed plentiful round on the floor under it.
"At the Mercy of Tiberius" by August Evans Wilson
The globe of heaven, which many a star and constellation strow, Borne upon Atlas' shoulders, is the blazon that they show.
"Moorish Literature" by Anonymous
Plenty of corn was brought in from the cribs and strowed along where everybody could get to it freely.
"Slave Narratives: A Folk History of Slavery in the United States" by Work Projects Administration
Now with bright holly all the temples are strow; With Laurel green and sacred Mistletoe.
"Christmas Entertainments" by Alice Maude Kellogg
And sweets around the poet strow, Whilst yet with life his ashes glow.
"The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction, Vol. 17, Issue 479, March 5, 1831" by Various
As I watch the strowing of the winds, my melancholy slips away.
"The Hills of Hingham" by Dallas Lore Sharp
The streets of the city were strowed with dead.
"The History of England in Three Volumes, Vol.I., Part E. From Charles I. to Cromwell" by David Hume
The whole country was strowed with the heads and limbs of traitors.
"The History of England in Three Volumes, Vol.I., Part F. From Charles II. to James II." by David Hume
New-startled blush of Flora !
The griefe of pale Aurora,
Who will contest no more ;
Haste, haste, to strowe her floore.
"The Rose" by Richard Lovelace
Ride on! ride on in majesty!
Hark! all the tribes Hosanna cry!
O Saviour meek pursue thy road,
With palms and scattered garments strowed.
"Ride on! ride on in majesty!" by Henry Hart Milman
On these downy Pillows lye,
Whose soft Plumes will thither fly:
On these Roses strow'd so plain
Lest one Leaf thy Side should strain.
"A Dialogue Between The Resolved Soul, And Created Pleasure" by Andrew Marvell
The Southern cross without its bleeding load,
The milky way of peace all freshly strowed,
And every white-throned star fixed in its lost
"Bryant’s Seventieth Birthday" by Oliver Wendell Holmes
And so I came to Phansies medow strow'd
With many a flower:
Fain would I here have made abode,
But I was quicken'd by my houre.
So to Care's cops I came, and there got through
With much ado.
"The Pilgrimage" by George Herbert
Who is that King, but He
Who call'st His crown to be called thine,
That thus can boast to be
Waited on by a wand'ring mine,
A voluntary mint, that strows
Warm silver showers where'er He goes!
"Saint Mar Magdelene; or, The Weeper" by Richard Crashaw