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Wine-red   /waɪn-rɛd/   Listen
Wine-red

adjective
1.
Of something having the dark red color of red wine.





WordNet 3.0 © 2010 Princeton University


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"Wine-red" Quotes from Famous Books



... drew away from me, but I put my finger to her lip and drew her nearer the wall, where the creepers had turned into a glorious wine-red. There we stood hushed, not daring to move; but holding close the one to the other as the feet of the promenaders waxed and waned above us. Their talk of birds and beasts came in wafts of boredom to us, thus standing hand ...
— Bog-Myrtle and Peat - Tales Chiefly Of Galloway Gathered From The Years 1889 To 1895 • S.R. Crockett
... dormer windows, with quaint wooden hoods over them, and two great chimneys. The whole house was covered with a luxuriant growth of ivy, finding easy foothold on the rough stonework and turned by autumn frosts to most beautiful bronze and wine-red tints. ...
— Anne Of Avonlea • Lucy Maud Montgomery
... madman, shrieking a curse to the sky, With the white road smoking behind him, and his rapier brandished high! Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden moon; wine-red was his velvet coat; When they shot him down on the highway, Down like a dog on the highway, And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch ...
— The Haunted Hour - An Anthology • Various
... the reviewed, I found myself unexpectedly classed with the world's majority. For on the east round rock, a few yards from my seat on the west round rock, behold a man had arranged himself, his back against the cedars, without attracting notice. While the gray weather lightened and wine-red streaks on the lake began to alternate with translucent greens, and I was watching mauve plumes spring from a distant steamer before her whistles could be heard, this nimble stranger must have found his own amusement in the blindness of ...
— The Blue Man - From "Mackinac And Lake Stories", 1899 • Mary Hartwell Catherwood
... in the coming of the rose-red Spring, Never in the passing of the wine-red Fall, May you hear the humming of the white bee's wing Murmur o'er the meadow ere the night ...
— The Poems of Henry Van Dyke • Henry Van Dyke


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