Zephyr

He sighed like a zephyr, and presently said: “Well, I’ll do it for you, but before I would do it for another, I swear I—” “But don’t swear.

Why pierce high-fronted honour to the quick For nothing but a dream?” Hereat the youth Look’d up: a conflicting of shame and ruth Was in his plaited brow: yet his eyelids Widen’d a little, as when Zephyr bids A little breeze to creep between the fans Of careless butterflies: amid his pains He seem’d to taste a drop of manna-dew, Full palatable; and a colour grew Upon his cheek, while thus he lifeful spake.

Euroclydon, nevertheless, is a mighty pleasant zephyr to anyone indoors, with his feet on the hob quietly toasting for bed.

A delicious zephyr played along the coasts of the Mediterranean, and wafted from shore to shore the sweet perfume of plants, mingled with the fresh smell of the sea.

Listen to every zephyr for some reproof, for it is surely there, and he is unfortunate who does not hear it.

He thought of Blaine the Mono, a train so fast that it travelled across the huge, haunted world trailing a sonic boom behind it, and that led him naturally enough to thoughts of Charlie the Choo-Choo, who had been retired to a forgotten siding when the new Burlington Zephyr arrived, rendering him obsolete.

“For there in sooth man’s life is easiest: Nor snow nor raging storm nor rain is there, But ever gently breathing gales of Zephyr Oceanus sends up to gladden man.” It is certain that the writer of the Odyssey only follows some old legend without having any knowledge of any place which corresponds to his description.

Nor yet the pile, where dead Patroclus lies, Smokes, nor as yet the sullen flames arise; But, fast beside, Achilles stood in prayer, Invoked the gods whose spirit moves the air, And victims promised, and libations cast, To gentle Zephyr and the Boreal blast: He call'd the aerial powers, along the skies To breathe, and whisper to the fires to rise.

Under a tuft of shade that on a green Stood whispering soft, by a fresh fountain-side, They sat them down; and after no more toil Of their sweet gardening labour than sufficed To recommend cool Zephyr, and make ease More easy, wholesome thirst and appetite More grateful, to their supper-fruits they fell, Nectarine fruits, which the compliant boughs Yielded them, sidelong as they sat recline On the soft downy bank damasked with flowers.