He went to the flower, he went to the insect, even as the large white butterfly goes to the cabbage and the red admiral to the thistle.
"The Life of the Fly" by J. Henri Fabre
It fell in broad scales of limestone, whereon grew thistles and the white rock-rose, sea pinks and furze.
"The Red Redmaynes" by Eden Phillpotts
A great white moth, blundering against a heavy thistle head, tumbled against Caroline's elbow and fluttered clumsily into her face.
"While Caroline Was Growing" by Josephine Daskam Bacon
Silybum Marianum, a handsome thistle with large leaves mottled with white, extends from Britain to Rawalpindi.
"The Panjab, North-West Frontier Province, and Kashmir" by Sir James McCrone Douie
It had a gold rose, shamrock and thistle combined on a white ground.
"Fifty-One Years of Victorian Life" by Margaret Elizabeth Leigh Child-Villiers, Countess of Jersey
Puffy white petticoats, fluffy white gown; Why, what a great ball of thistle-down!
"In My Nursery" by Laura E. Richards
The flowers are withered, the thistles which gave their fragrance to the air at Ypres are white with down.
"The Challenge of the Dead" by Stephen Graham
O wha's the bride that cairries the bunch
O' thistles blinterin white?
Her cuckold bridegroom little dreids
What he sail ken this nicht.
"O Wha’s Been Here Afore Me, Lass" by Hugh MacDiarmid
But aye I wi' my heuk will whang
The thistles, if in prickles strang
Your bonnie milk-white hands they wrang,
When we gang to the shearing.
"When Autumn Comes" by Robert Hogg
The naked other on the damask cloth,--
White, smooth, and light as the light thistle-down,
Or the pink, fairy, fluffy evening moth
On June-drunk beds of roses red,--lies thrown.
"The Sleeper" by Madison Julius Cawein
When heavy and hollow the robin's whistle
And shadows are deep in the heat of noon;
When the air is white with the down o' the thistle,
And the sky is red with the harvest moon;
"A Song Of Early Autumn" by Richard Watson Gilder
Love saw the emissary eglantine
Break wave round thy white feet above the gloom;
Lay finger on thy star; thy raiment line
With cherub wing and limb; wed thy soft bloom,
Gold-quivering like sunrays in thistle-down,
Earth under rolling brown.
"Hymn To Colour" by George Meredith
I viewed the snow-white message and thought of bygone years,
The hopes, the waging conflicts, joys mingled oft' with tears.
Tell me, thou thing of pearl hue, what will the future greet?
Will paths be strewn with roses, or thistles tear my feet?
"My First Gray Hair" by Mary Alice Walton