Prone the runnels plunge, While earth, Distent with moisture like a sponge, Smokes up, and leaves each plant its gem to see, Each grass-blade's glory-glitter, etc.
"Life of Robert Browning"
William Sharp
The golden sash about his body Could scarce keep in his swollen belly Distent with honey-suckle jelly.
"The Two Twilights"
Henry A. Beers