Home  »  A Dictionary of Similes  »  Christina Georgina Rossetti

Frank J. Wilstach, comp. A Dictionary of Similes. 1916.

Christina Georgina Rossetti

Agree like married music in Love’s answering air.

Black as black iron.

As the fading of a flower,
As the falling of a leaf,
So brief its day and its hour.

Bright as the golden poppy is that the beach breeds for the surf to kiss.

Changed me like a glove.

Chattering like magpies.

Close as oak and ivy stand.

Cry like famine.

Deep as the unfathomed endless sea.

Droned in sweetness like a fattened bee.

She dwindled, as the fair full moon doth turn
To swift decay and burn
Her fire away.

Her eyes are like the open heaven
Holy and pure from sin.

Dim dried eyes like an exhausted well.

Her own face was like a flower
Of the prime,
Half in sunshine, half in shower,
In the year’s most tender time.

Her face was like an opening rose,
So bright to look upon:
But now it is like fallen snows,
As cold, as dead, as wan.

Fair as a bridal chamber.

Fair thou art as moonrise after rain.

Faith is like a lily lifted high and white.

Like the watch-tower of a town
Which an earthquake shatters down,
Like a lightning-stricken mast,
Like a wind-uprooted tree
Spun about,
Like a foam-topped waterspout
Cast down headlong in the sea,
She fell at last.

Flashed …
Like a red-hot eye from a grave.

Flashing like fire-flies.

Fluttering like pigeons.

Fresh as dew.

Fresh as the sun.

Full as a plenteous river.

Gleams like a beacon from afar.

Glorious as a midnight star.

Glorious as purple twilight.

Glow like a flower.

Gone as an unreturning river.

Graceful as an ivy bough born to cling and lean.

As though a distant singing sea broke on a tuneful strand.

Green as the grave of a loved one.

Her hair is like the golden corn
A low wind breathes upon:
Or like the golden harvest-moon
When all the mists are gone:
Or like a stream with golden sands
On which the sun has shone
Day after day in summertime
Ere autumn leaves are wan.

My heart is like a singing bird
Whose nest is in a watered shoot;
My heart is like an apple-tree
Whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit;
My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these
Because my love is come to me.

Her heart is like an ordered house Good fairies harbour in.

As froth on the face of the deep,
As foam on the crest of the sea,
As dreams at the waking of sleep,
As gourd of a day and a night,
As harvest that no man shall reap,
As vintage that never shall be,
Is hope if it cling not aright,
O my God unto Thee.

Hope is like a harebell trembling from its birth.

Joyful as the light.

Kind as hovering dove.

As lily drooping to death,
As a drought-worn bird with failing breath,
As a lovely vine without a stay,
As a tree whereof the owner saith,
“Hew it down to-day.”

Listened like a cushat dove that listens to its mate alone.

Love is like a lovely rose the world’s delight.

As running rivers moan
On their course alone,
So I moan
Left alone.

Mounting like a flame.

Murmured like seas that are tempesting.

As the fair changing moon.

Pale as whom the Fates astound.

Pale as Parian statues.

Passed away,
Like the remembrance of a guest that tarrieth but a day.

Pleasant as budding tree.

As plump as plump can be.

Pure as the dove.

Pure as virgin purity.

Reel like a leaf that’s drawn to a water-wheel.

Renew thy youth, as eagle from the nest.

Rocking like the stately lilies beneath the stately sky.

Rolled up like a scroll.

As rivers seek the sea,
Much more deep than they,
So my soul seeks Thee
Far away.

Shrill as bird on topmost twig.

Silent as the silence where men lie slain.

She sings
As if a choir of spirits swept
From earth with throbbing wings.

Smile like summer after snow.

Tones as smooth as honey.

Soared like incense to the skies.

Soft as a sunny shadow
When day is almost done.

Soft as music’s measure.

As the delicate rose
To the sun’s sweet strength
Doth herself unclose,
Breadth and length;
So spreads my heart to thee.

Stately like the stars.

Steadfast as a fixed star.

Her locks streamed like the torch
Borne by a racer at full speed,
Or like the mane of horses in their flight
Or like an angel when she stems the light
Straight towards the sun,
Or like a caged thing freed,
Or like a flying flag when armies run.

Laura stretched her gleaming neck
Like a rush-imbedded swan,
Like a lily from the beck,
Like a moonlit poplar branch,
Like a vessel at the launch
When its last restraint is gone.

Strong as strong Ajax’s red right hand.

Beggars sue as king with king
Before the Throne of Grace on high.

Tender as dawn’s first hill-fire.

Thunder like the ocean when in strength and breadth and length it sets to shore.

Traceless as a thaw of bygone snow.

Trembled like a frightened child.

She kept in time without a beat
As true as church-bell ringers.

Untouched as any islet
Shrined in an unknown sea.

Vain as a leaf from a tree,
As a fading day,
As veriest vanity,
As the froth and the spray
Of the hollow-billowed sea,
As what was and shall not be,
As what is and passes away.

Voice, as hollow as the hollow sea.

As shows an hour-old ghost.

Whelmed me like a flood.

Whispered like the restless brook.

White a hand as lilies in the sunlight.

White as the moon lies in the lap of night.

White like flame.

Youth passes like the odour
From the white rose’s cup
When the hot sun drinks up
The dew that overflowed her.