But he Can visit thee with Dreader woe than death's.
"The Poetical Works of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Vol. I"
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
What are these flashes of light, Dreader than any darkness-flashes that have the blasphemy to look like joy-that dart now and again across the sorrow-struck confusion of her soul?
"Doctor Cupid"
Rhoda Broughton
Proudly they came, but their pride was the pomp of a funeral at midnight, When Dreader yet the lonely morrow looms; Few are the words that are spoken, and faces are gaunt beneath the torchlight That does but darken more the nodding plumes.
"Collected Poems 1897 - 1907"
Henry Newbolt