Peevish and impatient, like some ill-trained man who is sick
Perished utterly, like a blown-out flame
Philosophy evolved itself, like a vast spider's loom
Pillowed upon its alabaster arms like to a child o'erwearied with sweet toil
Polished as the bosom of a star
Poured his heart out like the rending sea in passionate wave on wave
Pouting like the snowy buds o' roses in July
Presently she hovered like a fluttering leaf or flake of snow
Pride and self-disgust served her like first-aid surgeons on the battlefield
Proud as the proudest of church dignitaries
Pure as a wild-flower
Pure as the azure above them
Pure as the naked heavens
Pure as the snowy leaves that fold over the flower's heart
Purple, crimson, and scarlet, like the curtains of God's tabernacle
Put on gravity like a robe
Q
Quaking and quivering like a short-haired puppy after a ducking
Questions and answers sounding like a continuous popping of corks
Quiet as a nun's face
Quietly as a cloud he stole
Quietude which seemed to him beautiful as clear depths of water
Quivering like an eager race-horse to start
R
Rage, rage ye tears, that never more should creep like hounds about God's footstool
Ran like a young fawn
Rattle in the ear like a flourish of trumpets
Rays springing from the east like golden arrows
Red as the print of a kiss might be
Redolent with the homely scent of old-fashioned herbs and flowers
Reflected each in the other like stars in a lake
Refreshed like dusty grass after a shower
Refreshing as descending rains to sunburnt climes
Remote as the hidden star
Restless as a blue-bottle fly on a warm summer's day
Revealed his doings like those of bees in a glass hive
Rich as the dawn
Ride like the wind through the night
Rivers that like silver threads ran through the green and gold of pasture lands
Roared like mountain torrents
Rolling it under the tongue as a sweet morsel
Round my chair the children run like little things of dancing gold
Ruddy as sunrise
Ruddy his face as the morning light
Ruffling out his cravat with a crackle of starch, like a turkey when it spreads its feathers
Running to and fro like frightened sheep
Rushing and hurrying about like a June-bug
S
Sanctuaries where the passions may, like wild falcons, cover their faces with their wings