Fifteen Thousand Useful Phrases Part 198

Like lead his feet were

Like leaves in wintry weather

Like leviathans afloat

Like lighting a candle to the sun

Like making a mountain out of a mole-hill

Like mariners pulling the life-boat

Like mice that steal in and out as if they feared the light

Like mountain over mountain huddled

Like mountain streams we meet and part

Like music on the water

Like notes which die when born, but still haunt the echoes of the hill

Like oceans of liquid silver

Like one pale star against the dusk, a single diamond on her brow gleamed with imprisoned fire

Like one who halts with tired wings

Like one who talks of what he loves in dream

Like organ music came the deep reply

Like pageantry of mist on an autumnal stream

Like phantoms gathered by the sick imagination

Like planets in the sky

Like pouring oil on troubled waters

Like roses that in deserts bloom and die

Like rowing upstream against a strong downward current

Like scents from a twilight garden

Like separated souls

Like serpents struggling in a vulture's grasp

Like sheep from out the fold of the sky, stars leapt

Like s.h.i.+ps that have gone down at sea

Like shy elves hiding from the traveler's eye

Like skeletons, the sycamores uplift their wasted hands

Like some grave night thought threading a dream

Like some new-gathered snowy hyacinth, so white and cold and delicate it was

Like some poor nigh-related guest, that may not rudely be dismist

Like some suppressed and hideous thought which flits athwart our musings, but can find no rest within a pure and gentle mind

Like some unshriven churchyard thing, the friar crawled

Like something fas.h.i.+oned in a dream

Like sounds of wind and flood

Like splendor-winged moths about a taper

Like stepping out on summer evenings from the glaring ball-room

upon the cool and still piazza

Like straws in a gust of wind

Like summer's beam and summer's stream

Like sunlight, in and out the leaves, the robins went

Like sweet thoughts in a dream

Like the awful shadow of some unseen power

Like the bellowing of bulls

Like the boar encircled by hunters and hounds

Like the bubbles on a river sparkling, bursting, borne away

Like the cold breath of the grave

Like the creaking of doors held stealthily ajar

Like the cry of an itinerant vendor in a quiet and picturesque town