(redirected from dusky)
Also found in: Dictionary, Thesaurus, Encyclopedia, Wikipedia.
See: obscure
Mentioned in ?
References in classic literature ?
The victors, assembling in large bands, gazed with wonder, not unmixed with fear, upon the flames, in which their own ranks and arms glanced dusky red.
Whoever had gazed into the dismal obscurity of the broad cavern mouth, whence ever and anon darted huge tongues of dusky flame, and had seen the strange, half-shaped monsters, and visions of faces horribly grotesque, into which the smoke seemed to wreathe itself, and had heard the awful murmurs, and shrieks, and deep, shuddering whispers of the blast, sometimes forming themselves into words almost articulate, would have seized upon Mr.
I accompanied her into the wide, dusky, stone-paved passage which on the ground floor corresponded with our grand sala.
In such cases he saw himself as a young sun-god, as beautiful as the eye of dusky or even white womanhood had ever dwelt upon.
Hung round with those dusky curtains, the world is no longer a mere dingy workshop, but a stately temple wherein man may worship, and where at times in the dimness his groping hands touch God's.
Every one was disposed to be kind to little Ellen Mingott, though her dusky red cheeks and tight curls gave her an air of gaiety that seemed unsuitable in a child who should still have been in black for her parents.
Outside there were no inconveniences, except that the dusky, ragged, earnest-eyed villagers of both sexes and all ages grouped themselves on their haunches all around us, and discussed us and criticised us with noisy tongues till midnight.
As for the king, he sat still and turned pale beneath his dusky skin.
Around many a dusky neck hung curiously coiled strands of wire, while several were further ornamented by huge nose rings.
She had wandered about the woods by the river's brink all day, and then, when evening fell and the grey twilight spread its dusky robe upon the waters, she stretched her arms out to the silent river that had known her sorrow and her joy.
I had read Byron's imitation of him before that, and admired it prodigiously, and when my father got me the book--as usual I did not know where or how he got it--not all the tall forms that moved before the eyes of haunted bards in the dusky vale of autumn could have kept me from it.
That gigantic black behind him has had many names since he dropped the one with which dusky mothers still terrify their children on the banks of the Guadjo-mo.