You are in the presence of these three grey sisters, grey thought, grey silence, grey repose: only clouds, like a troop of mourners, hurrying up over the waste, only a solemn dirge as the wind sweeps wailing by, only the low faint murmur of the sea.
"A Key to Lord Tennyson's 'In Memoriam'"
Alfred Gatty
Then we grinned as we looked at our neighbours; and then realized that we too were black as sweeps, topees, white helmets, and uniforms all covered with a fine black oily rain.
"From Edinburgh to India & Burmah"
William G. Burn Murdoch
It sweeps every one who is in the throes of ambition.
"The Literature of Ecstasy"
Albert Mordell