"Wimple" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... While waters wimple to the sea; While day blinks in the lift sae hie; 'Till clay-cauld death sall blin' my e'e, Ye sall be my dearie. Ca' the ewes to the knowes, Ca' them whare the heather grows, Ca' them whare the burnie ...
— The Complete Works of Robert Burns: Containing his Poems, Songs, and Correspondence. • Robert Burns and Allan Cunningham
... nine bushels of flax were sown therein, and none has yet sprung up, neither white nor black; and I have the measure by me still. I require to have the flax to sow in the new land yonder, that when it grows up it may make a white wimple, for my daughter's head on the day ...
— The Mabinogion Vol. 2 (of 3) • Owen M. Edwards
... seeks Pleasance in love-sighs She, looking thro' and thro' [1] me Thoroughly to undo me, Smiling, never speaks: So innocent-arch, so cunning-simple, From beneath her gather'd wimple [2] Glancing with black-beaded eyes, Till the lightning laughters dimple The baby-roses in her ...
— The Early Poems of Alfred Lord Tennyson • Tennyson
... Wumble—and you know it. I care nothing for your Mr. Wimple. And besides, you told us that the Western Palace and the Palace of the West were one and the same. That ...
— The Rover Boys out West • Arthur M. Winfield
... threw a wimple over her head, and carefully undoing the-chain and bar, admitted le Gallais, weary and travel-stained. Taking both her hands the young man gazed in her face with the honest gaze of a loving brother. Then searching in the lining ...
— St George's Cross • H. G. Keene
... High Street, and found a young nun at the bottom whom I had left the previous evening with a number of girls in uniform opposite the Guildhall—half-way up the street. She must have been spun down, arm over arm, for the wind was westerly, and whereas I had left her completely dressed to her wimple and beads, she was now nearly stripped, and her little flock scattered. And branches of trees, and wrecked houses, and reeling clouds of dead leaves were everywhere ...
— The Purple Cloud • M.P. Shiel
... for years and years and years, and I've never seen her before, and I'm not sure whether her name is Katharine or Alice, or where her uncle was buried, and I've got a new surcoat on which doesn't match her wimple at all, so let's leave her and go home to lunch....' And THAT'S what it is to ...
— The Holiday Round • A. A. Milne |
