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


Cling around the soul, as the sky clings round the mute earth forever beautiful.

Clinging … as ivy clings about an oak; as tuft-hunters with buzz and purr about a fellow-commoner.

Cling like a forlorn hope.

Clinging like a wet towel to a nail.

Cling like moss to a damp wall.

Clung … like a damp dish-cloth around a stove pipe.

Clung like a drowning man.

Clings like the wicked stench of the harlot’s room.
—John Antrobus

Clung like a beast’s hide to his fleshless bones.
—Edwin Arnold

Clung to the merry music of her words, like a bird on a bough, high swaying in the wind.
—Philip James Bailey

Clings fast as the clinging vine.
—Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Clings like an octopus.
—Robert Browning

Clinging … as friend with friend, or husband with wife,
Makes hand in hand the passage of life.
—William Cullen Bryant

Cling like Death’s embrace.
—H. C. Bunner

Cling like Ivy.
—Robert Burton

Clung like a cuirass to his breast.
—Lord Byron

Clinging like a faint odor.
—Henry A. Clapp

Cling to the memory as tenaciously as the fragrance of lavender clings to glove or lace.
—Henry A. Clapp

Clung to the soil like Caliban.
—Charles Dickens

Cling to the old house as barnacles to a wrecked and stranded vessel.
—Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Clinging … like pigeons on a roof-slope.
—Thomas Hardy

Clung … like ivy to a tree.
—Maurice Hewlett

Cling … like the spokes of a wheel.
—Oliver Wendell Holmes

Clings … like the weed in the face of the cliff.
—Thomas Hood

Clings cruelly to us, like the gnawing sloth
On the deer’s tender haunches.
—John Keats

Cling like the sloth.
—Rudyard Kipling

Clings about thee close, like moss to stones.
—Walter S. Landor

Cling, like bees about a flower’s wine-cup.
—Gerald Massey

Like flies to the sheer precipice.
—Lewis Morris

Clung like a spectral snow.
—John G. Neihardt

Clung … like magnet to steel.
—T. Buchanan Read

Clung like drowning men beneath the wave.
—Bayard Taylor

Like serpent eggs together.
—Alfred Tennyson

Her kisses burn where they close and cling
Like pain of longing or fire of hell.
—George Sylvester Viereck

Clinging like sentry to his post.

Clings … like pitch.

Cling, as clings the tufted moss,
To bear the winter’s lightning chills.
—John Greenleaf Whittier