Sparkling blue rivers wound, their way between hills and forests toward a distant sea.

As does the faerie raft beneath it, with its silver towers and blue river.

He was at the top of a flight of cement steps, looking west across the backyard to the river, blue and blinding in the sun.

A clear blue river that sparkled cheerfully past the milk-white Complex dome.

Dry sand, hot sun, a blue river with trees along its banks.

But by the end of the poem she proclaimed that "death must wait" and promised, "I'll dance a blue river."

The blue river wound its slow, broad way between low hills, through groves and meadows.

For long he held her, and they both gazed down At the wide city, and its blue, bridged river.

Through the green fields a lazy blue river was drawing itself slowly along, passing under a bridge in front of us.

With the green trees, the dark mountains, the blue river, and the clearing sky as background, the rainbow was an amazing thing to see.