We were on our way to Versailles to see how things were coming along at the bosk.

Her eyes were deer-like—not those of a startled fawn, but like a doe's who stands gazing at a perfect park, whose bosks she takes to be real forests.

What leaps in the bosk but a satyr?

Some one or something was moving in the bosk.

Great bosks of ferns grew beside, and here and there a bush burning with autumn color.