budless

It was a small, whitewashed place, with a green porch over the door; scanty brown stalks showed in the garden soil near this porch, and likewise beneath the windows - stalks budless and flowerless now, but giving dim prediction of trained and blooming creepers for summer days.

Shirley, by Charlotte Bronte 2004

For hours we thus toiled up pathways seemingly fitter for goats than men, where leafless trees were bending destitute of life and helpless towards the valley, as the keen wind went sighing, moaning, wailing through their bare boughs and budless twigs.

Across China on Foot Edwin John Dingle 1926

April was budless and cold, a month of storms; the snow drifted deep along the streets and M.

Clementina 1906

My small olive-branch of fancy will be withered, in truth, and ready to drop budless from the tree, when I cease to feel a mild delight in the billings and cooings of the little birds that separate from the flocks to fly together in pairs, or in the uninstructive but mutually satisfactory converse which Strephon holds with Chloe while they dally along the primrose path.

Fisherman's Luck and Some Other Uncertain Things Henry Van Dyke 1892

But now it was afternoon -- which, we all know, brings a somewhat more depressing air -- and the budless thickets stood so close, so still, Saul became conscious that his load was a corpse.

What Necessity Knows Lily Dougall 1890

Alvan gave her one out of his pocketbook, and watched her eyelids in profile as she perused those features of the budless grey woman.

The Tragic Comedians — Volume 2 George Meredith 1868

Alvan gave her one out of his pocketbook, and watched her eyelids in profile as she perused those features of the budless grey woman.

Complete Project Gutenberg Works of George Meredith George Meredith 1868

Alvan gave her one out of his pocketbook, and watched her eyelids in profile as she perused those features of the budless grey woman.

The Tragic Comedians — Complete George Meredith 1868

The bushes were leafless and budless, the summer gone, the spring not worth hoping for, because it also would go: spring after spring came -- for nothing but to go again!

Thomas Wingfold, Curate George MacDonald 1864

The thin leafless trees were all bending away from the shore, and the wind went sighing, hissing, and almost wailing through their bare boughs and budless twigs.

The Marquis of Lossie George MacDonald 1864