In a dim way he could hear the green things growing, the running of the sap, the bursting of the bud.
"The Faith of Men" by Jack London
But the sufferings that his green soldiers had undergone had sapped their discipline.
"Stonewall Jackson And The American Civil War" by G. F. R. Henderson
Even in February the sap is softening and warming in the veins which show no greening on the tips of the patient trees.
"The Right and Wrong Uses of the Bible" by R. Heber Newton
Green wood is seasoned by washing out the sap, and then drying it thoroughly.
"The Art of Travel" by Francis Galton
For it is the rays of the sun, together with the juices, or sap, inside leaves and plants, that makes them green.
"Daddy Takes Us to the Garden" by Howard R. Garis
When mixed with lime and evaporated to dryness, it forms the color called sap-green.
"The Commercial Products of the Vegetable Kingdom" by P. L. Simmonds
Farmer Green visits those trees every day to gather the sap.
"The Tale of Cuffy Bear" by Arthur Scott Bailey
He is the spring as it comes up through the pavements, the aching green sap.
"Musical Portraits" by Paul Rosenfeld
The English line goes up the big green hill, in trenches and saps of reddish clay, to the plateau or tableland at the top.
"The Old Front Line" by John Masefield
In May, the willow-stems were green and fresh with flowing sap.
"The Giant of the North" by R.M. Ballantyne
Each leaf a prayer,
And green fire everywhere ...
And all from Thee
The sap within the Tree.
"The Tree" by John Freeman
'Boughs of the Living Vine
They spread in summer shine
Green leaf with leaf:
Sap of the Royal Vine it stirs like wine
In all both less and chief.
"Christian And Jew" by Christina Georgina Rossetti
We have seen—we daily see,
Plant of hope, some fair young tree,
In the soft winds waving free,
Green and full of sap is he—
Rich the promised bloom.
"To Teachers of The Young" by Janet Hamilton
Worship this world of watercolor mood
in glass pagodas hung with veils of green
where diamonds jangle hymns within the blood
and sap ascends the steeple of the vein.
"April Aubade" by Sylvia Plath
I know no brotherhood with far-lock'd woods,
Where branches bourgeon from a kindred sap;
Where o'er moss'd roots, in cool, green solitudes,
Small silver brooklets lap.
"The City Tree" by Isabella Valancy Crawford
And my dream-burdened spirit, full to death,--
Ah! just behind the rose I feel thy breath!
Thou seemest through the sweet saps just to start;
Through the green leaves thou comest in my heart.
"An Elegy" by Manmohan Ghose
Contains Bob Ross 2" Brush, 1" Brush, Liner Brush, Large Painting Knife, Liquid Blue, Midnight Black, Dark Sienna, Van Dyke Brown, Alizarin Crimson, Sap Green, Cadmium Yellow, Yellow Ochre, Indian Yellow, Bright Red.