enhaloed

I turned and looked down the slope of the hill to where, enhaloed now in birds, stood those other two Martians that I had seen overnight, just as death had overtaken them.

The War of The Worlds H. G. Wells 2009

The music ceased, but not that humming, arid by a simultaneous movement of ten thousand respectful heads my attention was directed to the enhaloed supreme intelligence that hovered above me.

First Men in the Moon Herbert George 2006

I turned and looked down the slope of the hill to where, enhaloed now in birds, stood those other two Martians that I had seen overnight, just as death had overtaken them.

The War of the Worlds Herbert George 2006

He saw Hoopdriver walk slowly across the gateway, his head enhaloed in cigarette smoke, and pass out of sight up the street.

The Wheels of Chance: a bicycling idyll Herbert George 2006

The Thorburns – yes; they breed so, she echoed; looking at all the round red faces that seemed doubled in the giddiness that overcame her; and magnified in the gold mist that enhaloed them.

A Haunted House, and other short stories 2004

Sitting in the vajra-position, enhaloed by a five-colored rainbow.

An Offering Ceremony to the Spiritual Masters Pan-chen Blo-bzang chos-kyi rgyal-mtshan 2001

She returned them stare for stare, her back stiff and straight and her white hair enhaloed in the room's light.

Brain Twister Laurence M. Janifer 1967

She returned them stare for stare, her back stiff and straight and her white hair enhaloed in the room's light.

That Sweet Little Old Lady Randall Garrett 1957

It was the face of a street-walker, bloated and purplish, the poor pretence of colour gone, the haggard lines showing, all the awful life of her stamped upon it; yet in the lamplight, upturned in its helplessness, sealed with the sleep that had come at last to her, sore-footed, as softly as it might have come to a little baby falling asleep amid its play, there enhaloed it the incarnation of triumphant suffering.

The Workingman's Paradise An Australian Labour Novel John Maurice Miller

Sweet Flossie stands, her golden hair enhaloed now by firelit air.

Poems Teachers Ask For, Book Two Various