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His frame shuddered, his lips grew white, he spilt the untasted wine upon the carpet and rushed forth into the darkness, for the Earth too had on her black veil. The next day the whole village of Milford talked of little else than Parson Hooper's black veil.
But Farmer Green's wife couldn't decide what. And another strange thing happened. Miss Kitty Cat lost her appetite for milk. She would leave her saucer of milk untasted on the kitchen floor. Now and then Mrs. Green picked Miss Kitty up and looked closely at her face. At such times Miss Kitty purred pleasantly. She did not seem to be the least bit disturbed.
"I should have borne the thirst on the sandy desert, and dashed the crystal cup untasted from the fairy's hand; but I could never have faced the nobles and chiefs of Erin if I had refused to meet the challenge of the battle champion on the golden bridge."
It will take a power that some of us have not known to let that glass go untouched, and that quieting drug untasted and unhandled. If the rear end of some pharmacies could speak out, many a story would startle our ears of struggles and defeats that tell sadly of utter lack of power.
He was well rewarded for the recovery of his temper. Mrs Weston put down her glass of something good untasted. "What?" she said. "Is she going to live here alone in hiding from him? Have they quarrelled so soon?" Georgie had to disappoint her about this, and gave the authentic version. "And she's coming next week, Monday probably," he said.
In a small and ill-furnished upper room of a fortified country house, sat Synesius, the Bishop of Cyrene. A goblet of wine stood beside him, on the table, but it was untasted.
Forgetful of his untasted breakfast, Maltravers continued his meerschaum and his reflections: he did not cease, till he had convinced himself that he was but doing his duty to Alice, by teaching her to cultivate the charming talent she evidently possessed, and through which she might secure her own independence.
The beads from the wine have all vanished, Which bubbled in brightness so late; The lights from the windows are banished, Close shut is the gate Which yesterday swung wide in joyance, And beckoned to fate. The goblet stands idle, untasted, Or, tasted, is tasteless to-night; The breath of the roses is wasted; In sackcloth bedight, The soul, in the dusk of her palace, Sits waiting the light.
A picture of the long table covered with the white cloth at the end of the big dining room in Freedom's house came back into the mind of the boy now sitting in the barren little kitchen before the untasted, badly-cooked food. Upon it lay a profusion of bread and meat and great dishes heaped with steaming potatoes. At his own house there had always been just enough food for the single meal.
I had, moreover, by this brilliant manoeuvre, left the bitter cup of parting untasted but nothing more serious than this and seemed to have won a whole day from the clutches of Time, who deals them out so stingily to the expectant and impatient watcher.
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