"Weeping willow" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... shrub bearing a fruit, the stone of which was very similar to that of the quandang (Fusanus acuminatus) although there was no resemblance either in the form of the tree or of the flower. This shrub was not unlike the weeping willow in its growth, and the fruit, which grew at the extremities of the drooping branches, had the shape of a pear and a black ring at the broad end. The crop then on the tree was unripe, and was probably a second one; the flower ...
— Three Expeditions into the Interior of Eastern Australia, Vol 2 (of 2) • Thomas Mitchell
... longest way, round the outside of the garden, so as to avoid meeting any one. At the farthest end they came to a little garden-gate which led directly to the secluded summer-house. Close to the little house were two old nut-trees and a weeping willow, with thick pendent branches, and behind, far away into the distance, stretched the soft green meadows. Far and near, all was perfectly still. Uncle Titus had brought several thick books with him, under each arm, for he thought he should like to take possession at once, ...
— Uncle Titus and His Visit to the Country • Johanna Spyri
... simply marked with little marble blocks, which do not rise more than six inches above the ground. In the highest part of the grounds was the open grave, by the side of the husband, James Mott, who was buried about twelve years ago. Above the grave spread the branches of an aspen tree, and near it is a weeping willow. While thousands stood about, the coffin was reverently, solemnly, and silently lowered. The grave was then filled up, the friends turned away, and ...
— History of Woman Suffrage, Volume I • Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Susan B. Anthony, and Matilda Joslyn Gage
... he wound, When lo! forth starting at the sound, From underneath an aged oak That slanted from the islet rock, A damsel guider of its way, A little skiff shot to the bay, That round the promontory steep Led its deep line in graceful sweep, Eddying, in almost viewless wave, The weeping willow twig to rave, And kiss, with whispering sound and slow, The beach of pebbles bright as snow. The boat had touched this silver strand Just as the Hunter left his stand, And stood concealed amid the brake, To view this Lady of the Lake. The maiden paused, ...
— The Lady of the Lake • Sir Walter Scott |
