hardness and brilliancy of blue enamel

The sky was as a shield
that caught the stain of blood and battle from the dying sun

The sky was clear and blue, and the air as soft as milk

The sky was like a peach

The sky where stars like lilies white and fair shine through the mists

The solid air around me there heaved like a roaring ocean

The solid mountains gleamed like the unsteady sea

The soul is like a well of water springing up into everlasting life

The sound is like a noon-day gale

The sound is like a silver-fountain that springeth in a golden basin

The sound of a thousand tears, like softly pattering wings

The sound of your running feet that like the sea-hoofs beat

The spear-tongued lightning slipped like a snake

The Spring breaks like a bird

The stacks of corn in brown array, like tattered wigwams on the plain

The stars come down and trembling glow like blossoms on the waves below

The stars lay on the lapis-lazuli sky
like white flower-petals on still deep water
[lapis-lazuli = opaque to translucent blue,
violet-blue, or greenish-blue gemstone]

The stars pale and silent as a seer

The strange cold sense of aloofness that had numbed her senses
suddenly gave way like snow melting in the spring

The sudden thought of your face is like a wound when it comes unsought

The sun, like a great dragon, writhes in gold

The sun on the sea-wave lies white as the moon

The surf was like the advancing lines of an unknown enemy
flinging itself upon the shore

The terrible past lay afar, like a dream left behind in the night

The tide was in the salt-weed, and like a knife it tore

The time, gliding like a dream

The torrent from the hills
leaped down their rocky stairways like wild steeds

The tree whose plumed boughs are soft as wings of birds

The uproar and contention pierced him like arrows

The veiled future bowed before me like a vision of promise

The velvet grass that is like padding to earth's meager ribs

The villa dips its foot in the lake, smiling at its reflection
like a bather lingering on the brink

The voice of Fate, crying like some old Bellman through the world

The voice that rang in the night like a bugle call

The warm kindling blood burned her cheeks like the breath of a hot wind

The waves were rolling in, long and lazy, like sea-worn travelers

The whole truth, naked, cold, and fatal as a patrio