Presently she opened the oven door and tried the cake by sticking a broom whisp into it.
"The Bobbsey Twins" by Laura Lee Hope
There is a whisp of smoke yonder, curling up over the bank.
"The Devil's Own" by Randall Parrish
These incidents, names, and dates are mere whisps of history.
"Germany and the Germans" by Price Collier
The air was sultry, light whisps of mist lying low over the plain.
"The Emigrant Trail" by Geraldine Bonner
Whisps of wet black hair clung to her forehead, and rain-drops lay in the flushed hollows of her cheeks.
"Doctor Luke of the Labrador" by Norman Duncan
Whisps of such doubt did afterwards float across his pretty morning picture, but he put them away at once.
"Little Novels of Italy" by Maurice Henry Hewlett
What a little white whisp you are!
"The Trail of '98" by Robert W. Service
There, I can get a whisp of straw from your head.
"Rookwood" by William Harrison Ainsworth
In half an hour the sun was out and I dared spread a whisp of sail and ran down to hail the bark.
"Swept Out to Sea" by W. Bertram Foster
And counsel both, the remedy at once Devised, and thus, low-whisp'ring, answer'd me.
"The Odyssey of Homer" by Homer
Flow on, cold river! Our bitter grief
No tears from thy waves can waken:
Thy whisp'ring reed, and thy willow leaf
By no sad sighs are shaken.
"In Memoriam G. A. P." by E W Bowling
Nae soun' o' youngsters oot at e'en,
Nae voice o' whisp'ring lovers there;
He heard nae soun' but that o' praise—
He heard nae voice but that o' prayer.
"Gran'Faither At Cam'slang" by Janet Hamilton
'Twas drawing near the holiday,
When piety and pity met
In whisp'ring council, and agreed
That Christmas time, in homes of need,
Should be remembered in a way
They never could forget.
"Christmas At Church" by Hattie Howard
"And yet erewhile, if night her shadows threw
O'er the known woodlands of my native vale,
Fancy in visions wild the landscape drew,
And swell'd with boding sounds the whisp'ring gale.
"Euphelia" by Helen Maria Williams
The Muse, who sought thee in the whisp'ring shade,
When scarce one roving breeze was on the wing,
With tones of genuine grief beholds thee fade,
And asks thy quick return in earliest Spring.
"Verses On An Autumn Leaf" by Sir John Carr
And rise it did -- in Heav'n's bright sky,
Its glorious blaze will never die,
And Hope, too, whispers in my breast,
"For Hope's soft whisp'rings seldom rest,"
That I shall view its rays To-morrow.
"To-Morrow" by Laura Sophia Temple