These final words snapped like a whip-lash
These thoughts pierced me like thorns
They are as cruel as creeping tigers
They are as white foam on the swept sands
They are as white swans in the dusk, thy white hands
They are painted sharp as death
They broke into pieces and fell on the ground, like a silvery, shimmering shower of hail
They dropped like panthers
They fly like spray
They had hands like claws
They had slipped away like visions
They have as many principles as a fish has bones
They have faces like flowers
They hurried down like plovers that have heard the call [plovers = wading birds]
They look like rose-buds filled with snow
They seem like swarming flies, the crowd of little men
They seemed like floating flowers
They shine as sweet as simple doves
They stand like solitary mountain forms on some hard, perfectly transparent day
They vanished like the shapes that float upon a summer's dream
Thick as wind-blown leaves innumerable
Thickly the flakes drive past, each like a childish ghost
Thine eyes like two twin stars shining
This life is like a bubble blown up in the air
This love that dwells like moonlight in your face
This thought is as death
This tower rose in the sunset like a prayer
Those ancestral themes past which so many generations have slept like sea-going winds over pastures
Those death-like eyes, unconscious of the sun
Those eyelids folded like a white rose-leaf
Those eyes like bridal beacons shine
Thou art to me but as a wave of the wild sea
Thou as heaven art fair and young
Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea
Thou must wither like a rose
Thou shalt be as free as mountain winds
Thou wouldst weep tears bitter as blood
Though bright as silver the meridian beams shine
Though thou be black as night
Thoughts vague as the fitful breeze
Three-cornered notes fly about like butterflies
Through the forest, like a fairy dream through some dark mind, the ferns in branching beauty stream
Through the moonlit trees, like ghosts of sounds haunting the moonlight, stole the faint tinkle of a guitar
Through the riot of his senses, like a silver blaze, ran the legend
Thy beauty like a beast it bites
Thy brown benignant eyes have sudden gleams of gladness and surprise, like woodland brooks that cross a sunlit spot
Thy carven columns must have grown by magic, like a dream in stone
Thy favors are but like the wind that kisses everything it meets
Thy heart is light as a leaf of a tree
Thy name burns like a gray and flickering candle flame