The birds are silent; brown leaves cover the green grass, falling thicker and thicker from the weary trees; long, white gossamers float in the damp, oppressive air: the autumn is weaving a shroud for the dying year.
"Erlach Court"
Ossip Schubin
To our left a great hill, all huge and damp, glittering with gossamers, and smelling of restless yellow leaves, shouldered the morning sky.
"October Vagabonds"
Richard Le Gallienne
Off with your shoes and stockings and put on your gossamers.
"Chicken Little Jane"
Lily Munsell Ritchie