Fortunately, the breeze was but slight, and only served to make the huge waxen torches flare more freely.
"The War Trail" by Mayne Reid
His face was waxen, and he looked utterly small and harmless.
"Unwise Child" by Gordon Randall Garrett
It might have been a waxen mask.
"A Girl of the Commune" by George Alfred Henty
The thin, waxen mask of assumed kindness has melted from her face!
"Fairy Fingers" by Anna Cora Mowatt Ritchie
They were Jews, waxen-faced, their thin bodies bent with fatigue.
"Trapped in 'Black Russia'" by Ruth Pierce
The little man with the waxened, weazened, face expressed himself as quite satisfied with the new employe.
"The Goose Man" by Jacob Wassermann
In the sable rooms rises a dark catafalque, and in it lies a waxen face.
"In The Boyhood of Lincoln" by Hezekiah Butterworth
She turned the envelope over to examine its back, and study the waxen seal.
"Beatrice Leigh at College" by Julia Augusta Schwartz
From the waxen petals of these flowers very delicious sauces, jams, chutneys, and jellies are made.
"The Khaki Kook Book" by Mary Kennedy Core
On his bed he lay, his face waxen in colour and emaciated, while the white hands clasped the crucifix.
"Grey Town" by Gerald Baldwin
How lovely o'er thy waxen face,
Enchanting as an angel's story,
I saw thy smile of peace and grace
That shone with pure celestial glory!
"To Nettie" by Aaron Southwick
The prosperous elder that always smells
Of homely joys and the cares that bless,
And the woodbine's waxen and honeyed cells,
A hive of the sweetest idleness.
"A Country Nosegay" by Alfred Austin
Dainty, flower-soft, waxen thing,
Its clear eyes opened on this bad earth,
And the little shuddering soul took wing,
By the gate of death, from the gate of birth.
"A Baby's Death" by Kate Seymour Maclean
Yet--should one loving reverently kneel
And draw the lily's close-shut leaves apart,
Perchance those waxen petals might reveal
Enshrined within, a glowing golden heart.
"To A. M. M." by Leigh Gordon Giltner
Shall those lips speak in the years on-coming?
O, child of mine, with waxen brow,
Surely your words of that dim to-morrow
Rapture and power and grace must borrow
From the poignant love and holy sorrow
Of the heart that shrines and cradles you now!
"The Mother" by Lucy Maud Montgomery
And some he hath made happy, but for him
Is happiness no more. He doth repent,
And now the light of joy is waxen dim,
Are all his steps toward the Highest sent;
He looks for mercy, and he waits release
Above, for this world doth not yield him peace.
"The Dreams That Came True" by Jean Ingelow