Frank J. Wilstach, comp. A Dictionary of Similes. 1916.
Bare as lies the mirrored moon in silver sleeping seas.Barren as a desolate moor.Beautiful as dawn in Heaven.Beauty,—like a beacon burns above the dark of strife.Brims with bliss, as a valley brims with life in spring-tide hours.Cling, like bees about a flower’s wine-cup.Cold as the night-dews on the world.Cold as a fireless hearth.Dark as it were dipped in the death-shadow.A face, like nestling luxury of flowers.Fair as the spirit of the evening star.Fervent as Hesper in the brow of Eve.Floats like an Ark safely through all the deluge of the dark.Fluttered like a lark.The flowers fold their cups like praying hands.Fresh as the drop of dew cradled at morn.Full of fragrant love as May’s musk-roses are of morning’s wine.Gay as lover to the altar.Glorious as the rainbow’s birth.Glowed like angels in the sun.Glowed like a watch fire in the Wilderness.Glowing imperial as the sun-toucht rose.She is graceful as the greenly waving boughs in summer wind.That grows with gazing on, like lover’s beauty.Hung like heaven around.Happy as the Bird whose nest
Is heaven’d in the heart of purple Hills.The heart is like an instrument whose strings steal nobler music from life’s mystic frets.Hid like incense in a flower’s heart.Hushed like an infant on its mother’s breast.Came kissing like rich airs from secret shores
To those who sail into the eternal dawn.Lavish, as all the dew were turn’d to gems.Lies like a smile of sunshine among lilies.Happy light, like those dream-smiles which are the speech of sleep.Lightly as swimming shadows dusk the lake.Lusty as leaves in June.Merry as spring groves full of birds.Mournful as the dancing of dead leaves.Numerous as a night of stars.Pale as a lily crowned with moonlight.Pale as a pearl.Piteous as a spirit wailing in a world of tears.Pitiless as the grave.Quiet, as of dreaming Trees.Returning like dew that hath been to heaven, dropping in rain.Rich as a Millais in its tint and tone.My heart rings out in music, like a lark hung in the charmed palace of the morn.Sad as the shriek of the midnight blast.Sad as wailing winds.Shone like Joshua’s sun.Silent as the sleeping seas.Silvery as a song.Her smile as sunshine on a ripening land.Its smile is as a thankful hymn.Smiled like a paradise.The burthened heart should soar in mirth like Morn’s young prophet-lark.Soft as light-fall on unfolding flowers.Sprang like a lily from the dirt of poverty.Stern as a mailed knight that had been grappling death.Stern as the noon of night.Love’s sweet mystery stirring at their hearts, like first spring motions in the veins o’ the flowers.Strong as a sea-swell.Sweet as first love.Sweet as first spring violets.Swift as runs a wind-wave over grass.Tender as a summer heaven.Thick
As starry mysteries written on the night.Thronged like a shower of gold king-cups in meadows sunny.Toiled like branded slaves.Upborne, like Aphrodite upon a meadowy swell of emerald sea.Vanish like a dew-drop in a rose.Waved like blessing hands.