upwreath

present singular third person upwreaths · participle present upwreathing · participle past upwreathed · past upwreathed · alternative upwreathe

1. intransitiveTo rise with a curling motion; to curl upward, as smoke does.

   And around it columns of smoke, upwreathing, Rose from the boiling, bubbling, seething Caldron, that glowed, And overflowed With the black tar, heated for the sheathing.

   1850, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, “The Building of the Ship”, in The Seaside and the Fireside, Boston: Ticknor, Reed, and Fields, page 18

   3 more examples

   1822, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, “Apologia pro Vita Sua” in Ernest Hartley Coleridge (ed.), The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1912, p. 345, In unctuous cones of kindling coal, Or smoke upwreathing from the pipe’s trim bole, His [the poet’s] gifted ken can see Phantoms of sublimity.

   Ambrosial banquet for Olympus fit, Whose savours with the sweetest incense breathed Of youth, and hope, and energy, and wit, And thoughts of love that with these fumes upwreathed.

   1911, Arthur Lynch, Prince Azreel: A Poem with Prose Notes, London: Stephen Swift, page 41

   And a little off to the left, at about a mile’s distance, lay a large rubbish and garbage dump, from which coils of black and yellow smoke upwreathed into the peaceful Sunday morning air.

   1979, Julian Moynahan, chapter 3, in Where the Land and Water Meet, New York: William Morrow, page 54

2. transitiveTo twist or entwine (something) upward.

   1830, Reginald Heber, “Morte d'Arthur: A Fragment,” Canto 2, stanza 14, in The Poetical Works of Reginald Heber, London: Frederick Warne, no date, p. 210, […] coiled around his crest, a dragon long Upwreathed its golden spires the wavy plumes among.

   1 more example

   By thy upwreathed locks that scent the wind, O! hear my prayer, and aid; for Myrrha is unkind!

   1861, Joseph Noel Paton, “Hymn to Aphrodite”, in Poems by a Painter, Edinburgh: William Blackwood, page 133

3. transitiveTo send (something) upward in curls.

   And your fair vestals, watchful, swing Sweet incense for their welcoming, The while our thuribles shall be Upwreathing odorous thoughts to thee;

   1911, C. G. Blanden, “Redwood”, in The Upper Trail, Chicago: The Alderbrink Press, page 200