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moon +‎ -ward


moonward (not comparable)

  1. Toward the moon.
    • 1834, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, “Limbo” in The Poetical Works of S. T. Coleridge, London: William Pickering, Volume I, “Sibylline Leaves,” p. 272,[1]
      An old man with a steady look sublime,
      That stops his earthly task to watch the skies;
      But he is blind—a statue hath such eyes;—
      Yet having moonward turn’d his face by chance,
      Gazes the orb with moon-like countenance,
    • 1867, Sheridan Le Fanu, The Tenants of Malory, London: Tinsley Brothers, Chapter 18, p. 204,[2]
      Down the hill toward Malory he sauntered, looking sometimes moonward, sometimes on the dark woods, and feeling as five weeks since he could not have believed himself capable of feeling, and so he arrived at the very gate of Malory.
    • 1882, George MacDonald, “The History of Photogen and Nycteris” in The Gifts of the Child Christ, and Other Tales, London: Sampson Low, Marston, Searle & Rivington, Volume I, pp. 152-3,[3]
      The moon rode high in the blue eternity; it was a very triumph of glorious night; the river ran babble-murmuring in deep soft syllables; the fountain kept rushing moonward, and blossoming momently to a great silvery flower, whose petals were for ever falling like snow, but with a continuous musical clash, into the bed of its exhaustion beneath []
    • 1942, Robert Nichols, “Epic Wind” in Such Was My Singing, London: Collins, p. 99,[4]
      An opal spume obscures the bay
      Where the distracted breakers crowd;
      The very dunes are whirled away,
      Spun moonward in a flamelike cloud.


moonward (not comparable)

  1. Which faces or points to or leads to the moon.
    • 1901, H. G. Wells, The First Men in the Moon, Indianapolis: Bowen-Merrill, Chapter 19, p. 219,[5]
      And having puzzled out what I considered the thing to do, I opened all my moonward windows, and squatted down—the effort lifted me for a time some foot or so into the air and I hung there in the oddest way—and waited for the crescent to get bigger and bigger until I felt I was near enough for safety.
    • 1919, Paul Bewsher,[6] “Green Balls:” The Adventures of a Night-Bomber, Edinburgh & London: William Blackwood & Sons, Chapter 3, p. 65,[7]
      Far away on the moon-ward horizon a luminous silver mist veiled the distant view.