sweet-breathed

She loved her sweet-breathed husband and responded to him deeply when they were joined in love—her one serious frustration was that he had no use for words.

The Berrybender Narratives Larry McMurtry 2004

Then, with a sweet-breathed grunt, she reached and swooped Andrew up into her great soft arms and began to dance with him.

Yolonda's Genius Carol Fenner 2001

Then, with a sweet-breathed grunt, she reached and swooped Andrew up into her great soft arms and began to dance with him.

Yolonda's Genius Carol Fenner 2001

Then, with a sweet-breathed grunt, she reached and swooped Andrew up into her great soft arms and began to dance with him.

Yolonda's Genius Carol Fenner 2001

Then, with a sweet-breathed grunt, she reached and swooped Andrew up into her great soft arms and began to dance with him.

Yolonda's Genius Carol Fenner 2001

A clear, sweet-breathed dawn, as we said, that seemed somehow to have caught a scent of far-off harvest-farms, in lands where it was not winter.

The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 13, No. 75, January, 1864 Various

Nowhere else is the traveller's path guarded on either hand with a rampart of delicate primroses, sweet-breathed violets, golden buttercups fit for fairy revels, honeysuckles in whose bells the bee rings a delighted peal, and luscious-fruited blackberry-bushes.

The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 18, No. 109, November, 1866 Various

Up the lane came the cow-boy, alternately whistling, singing, and cracking his whip, until at length the drove of sweet-breathed cows stood lowing at the bars, which, at milking-time, would be let down for them to pass each to her own stall.

Memories A Record of Personal Experience and Adventure During Four Years of War Fannie A. Beers

Then came the cowboys, with noisy whoop, driving before them the crowding, clumsy, sweet-breathed herd, while, fearlessly amid all, pigeons fluttered, greedily picking up the refuse grain, heedless of the hoofs among which they pecked and fluttered.

Plantation Sketches Margaret Devereux

When morning broke, cold and sweet-breathed, russet clouds, dyed with the latent crimson day, thronging up from behind the hills, she tried to thrust down all the pains of the night as moody fancies.

The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 13, No. 75, January, 1864 Various