Like an engine of dread war, he set his shoulder to the mountain-side

Like an enraged tiger

Like an enthusiast leading about with him an indifferent tourist

Like an icy wave, a swift and tragic impression swept through him

Like an unbidden guest

Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun

Like an unseen star of birth

Like an unwelcome thought

Like apparitions seen and gone

Like attempting to number the waves on the snore of a limitless sea

Like bells that waste the moments with their loudness

Like blasts of trumpets blown in wars

Like bright Apollo

Like bright lamps, the fabled apples glow

Like building castles in the air

Like bursting waves from the ocean

Like cliffs which have been rent asunder

Like clouds of gnats with perfect lineaments
                                         [lineaments = distinctive shape]

Like cobwebs woven round the limbs of an infant giant

Like crystals of snow

Like dead lovers who died true

Like Death, who rides upon a thought,
and makes his way through temple, tower, and palace

Like dew upon a sleeping flower

Like dining with a ghost

Like drawing nectar in a sieve

Like earth’s decaying leaves

Like echoes from a hidden lyre

Like echoes from an antenatal dream

Like fixed eyes, whence the dear light of sense and thought has fled

Like footsteps upon wool

Like fragrance from dead flowers

Like ghosts, from an enchanter fleeing

Like ghosts the sentries come and go

Like golden boats on a sunny sea

Like great black birds, the demons haunt the woods

Like green waves on the sea

Like having to taste a hundred exquisite dishes in a single meal

Like Heaven’s free breath, which he who grasps can hold not

Like helpless birds in the warm nest

Like iridescent bubbles floating on a foul stream

Like kindred drops mingled into one

Like laying a burden on the back of a moth

Like lead his feet were

Like leaves in wintry weather

Like leviathans afloat

Like lighting a candle to the sun

Like making a mountain out of a mole-hill

Like mariners pulling the life-boat

Like mice that steal in and out as if they feared the light

Like mountain over mountain huddled

Like mountain streams we meet and part

Like music on the water

Like notes which die when born, but still haunt the echoes of the hill

Like oceans of liquid silver

Like one pale star against the dusk,
a single diamond on her brow gleamed with imprisoned fire