It is in the brain that the poppy is red, that the apple is odorous, that the skylark sings.
Mutely together they moved through the lonesome, odorous twilight.
The railway terminus will be odorous with garlic and the humanity of Italy.
The day came on—glorious, odorous, golden—but we saw little of its beauty.
It was enough to be seated here, close with her in the starry, ...