Hang upon the timely bough: He has green young garden-plots, Basketed in silver pots; Syrian scents in alabaster, And whate’er a curious taster Could desire, that women make With oil or honey, of meal cake; And all shapes of beast or bird, In the woods by huntsman stirr’d; And a bower to shade his state Heap’d with dill, an amber weight; And about him Cupids flying, Like young nightingales, that—trying Their new wings—go half afraid, Here and there, within the shade.
— from A Jar of Honey from Mount Hybla by Leigh Hunt

These reeds were from fifteen to seventeen feet long, yet no trace of a knot for the insertion of leaves and branches was perceived.
— from Personal Narrative of Travels to the Equinoctial Regions of America, During the Year 1799-1804 — Volume 2 by Alexander von Humboldt

In thus admitting external features as class characters, he excluded many animals which by their mode of reproduction, as well as by their respiration and circulation, belong to this class as much as the Quadrupeds,—as, for instance, all the Cetaceans, (Whales, Porpoises, and the like,) which, though they have not legs, nor are their bodies covered with hair or fur, yet bring forth living young, nurse them with milk, are warm-blooded and air-breathing.
— from The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 09, No. 51, January, 1862 A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics by Various

He feeds luxurious doubt with Omar Khyam, But for long years neglects the jug of wine.
— from Toward the Gulf by Edgar Lee Masters

Your patience, I do not ask to mock ye: 'tis a great sum, A sum for mighty men to start and stick at; But not for honest: have ye no friends left ye, None that have felt your bounty?
— from Beggars Bush: A Comedy From the Works of Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher (Volume 2 of 10) by John Fletcher

I was watching the swarming multitude in Wall Street this morning, when one of these fellows was declaiming against the banks for stopping specie payments, and “robbing a poor man in such a w illanous manner,” when one of the merchants, who appeared to know his customer, said to him—“Well, as you say, it is hard for a poor fellow like you not to be able to get dollars for his notes; hand them out, and I’ll give you specie for them myself!”
— from Diary in America, Series One by Frederick Marryat