Frank J. Wilstach, comp. A Dictionary of Similes. 1916.
Glide noiselessly as spirits of the night.Twisting and twining like a conger eel.Yelled like incarnate fiends.Lips apart,
Like monument of Grecian art.Blushing, like some shy maiden in convent bred.Chang’d, like form in a dream.Changes as a guilty dream.Countless as motes in the sunbeams.Crash, as when the whirlwind rends the asp.Dart o’er stock and stone like hunted hart.Driven like chaff before the wind of heaven.Eager as greyhound on his game.Eager as hunters in pursuing their prey.Faint, like distant clarion feebly blown.Fair as the earliest beam of eastern light.Fantastic as a woman’s mood.As fixed as Cheviot.Flat as the fens of Holland.Flung like vile carrion to the hound.Floating like foam upon the wave.Fly, like mist before the zephyr’s sigh.As fresh as a May gowan.Fresh as an old oak.Gazed, like lion roused.Gazed like the startled deer.Glad as brief delay.Glittering like the spangled dewdrop.Like the dew on the mountain,
Like the foam on the river,
Like the bubble on the fountain,
Thou art gone, and forever.Hesitate, like the submissive voice of an inferior.Hungry as a kite.Impetuous as a wild boar.Lost, like the light, flickering of a cottage’s fire.Lovely as the smiling infant spring.Like frost work in the morning ray,
The fancied fabric melts away.Mute as fox’s ’mongst mangling hounds.Mute as the grave.Pale and wan, as watchlight by the bed of some departing man.Pale as clay.Peep, like moss-grown rocks, half-seen,
Half hidden in the copse.A play, like a bill, is of no value till it is accepted; nor indeed when it is, very often.Regularly as clock-work.Right as my glove.Rotting in my gizzard, like Sancho’s suppressed witticisms.Shook, like reeds beside a frozen brook.Shook, like the Aspen leaves in the wind.Shoots like a meteor through the storm.A sigh like that of a saint desirous of dissolution.Hobbled slow as a broken-winded mare.Spontaneous as … a tree resigning its leaves to the wind.Stood, like veteran, worn, but unsubdued.Started, like a greyhound from the slips when the sportsman cries halloo.Swart as the smoke from raging furnace.Like a sunbeam, swift.Thick as the schemes of human pride.Tinkling … like armourers at work upon their anvils.Unconscious as a statue.Upright as a wooden sentinel at the door of a puppet-show.Vanished from our eyes, like sunbeam on the billow cast.O, woman!… variable as the shade,
By the light quivering aspen made.Waved like autumn-corn.Fence … waved like a cobweb in the gale.White as Dinlay’s spotless snoe.Whooped like a Bacchanal.Wild as ocean gale.Wild, like trumpet-jubilee.Wilful as a prince.Wily as an old fox.Yawn’d like a gash on warrior’s breast.