hawthorn-tree

Long she was ere she made land there, and the sun was high in the heavens when she came, all spent and weary, to the shadow of the hawthorn-tree; and she cast herself down there and fell asleep straightway.

The Water of the Wondrous Isles 2007

There is a hawthorn-tree, which rises like a wooden pillar through the rooms of the castle; for, by a strange conceit, the walls have been built round it.

Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides 2006

All I could do, therefore, was to creep as far as the trunk of the hawthorn-tree, and thence observe that my enemy did not return by the way he had come, but hastened down the dusky valley.

Erema Richard Doddridge 2004

Before he stood up again, to ease his back and to look at the ground which he still had to turn, I was kneeling behind a short, close-branched holly, the very last bush of the hedge-row, scarcely fifteen yards from the hawthorn-tree.

Erema Richard Doddridge 2004

And one end of the handrail was fastened into a hollow and stubby old hawthorn-tree, overhanging the bridge and the water a good way.

Erema Richard Doddridge 2004

In this benumbed horror I durst not even peep at the doings of my enemy; but presently I became aware that he had moved from the end of the planks (where he stood for some time as calmly as if he had done nothing there), and had passed round the back of the hawthorn-tree, and gone down to the place where the body was found, and was making most narrow and minute search there.

Erema Richard Doddridge 2004

A gardener in shirt-sleeves was filling a water-barrel by the river, under a hawthorn-tree, and the young man in the punt was putting up his fishing-tackle.

The Invader A Novel

You may have seen a hawthorn-tree in the spring all white with its scented blossoms.

Twilight and Dawn Simple Talks on the Six Days of Creation Caroline Pridham

I see it yet, the crimson sunset warming the gray stone, -- and a great hawthorn-tree, covered with blossoms, standing by.

The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 08, No. 48, October, 1861 Various

Madelon was tired out; she knew it was too early for any train to start for Spa, and nothing better occurred to her than to sit down and rest once more in a sheltered corner amongst some bushes under a big hawthorn-tree growing on the bank of the river; and in a few minutes she was again sound asleep, whilst the mass of snowy blossoms above her head grew rosy in the sunlight.

My Little Lady Eleanor Frances Poynter