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| Ancient as the sun. | 1 |
Beautiful as ever looked From white clouds in a dream. | 2 |
Clinging
as friend with friend, or husband with wife, Makes hand in hand the passage of life. | 3 |
| Differ as an octave flute and a tavern gong. | 4 |
| Fair as the hills of Paradise. | 5 |
| Fickle as the sea. | 6 |
| Fierce as the shout of victory. | 7 |
| Fling
as a bird flings oer his shivering plumes the fountains spray. | 8 |
| Seasons flit before the mind as flit the snow-flakes in a winter storm, seen rather than distinguished. | 9 |
| Flittering here and there, like sunshine in the uneasy ocean-waves. | 10 |
Floating downward in airy play, Like spangles dropped from the glistening crowd That whiten by night the milky way. | 11 |
| Glimmer like a star in autumns hazy night. | 12 |
| Glowing in the green, like flakes of fire. | 13 |
| Gorgeous as are a rivulets banks in June. | 14 |
| Heaped like a host in battle overthrown. | 15 |
| Howling, like a wolf, flies the famished northern blast. | 16 |
| Light as the whispers of a dream. | 17 |
| The soft memory of her virtues
lingers like twilight hues. | 18 |
| Modest and shy as a nun. | 19 |
As shadows cast by cloud and sun flit oer the summer grass, So, in thy sight, Almighty One! earths generations pass. | 20 |
| Perish, as the quickening breath of God
is withdrawn. | 21 |
| Return, like a late summer when the year grows old. | 22 |
| Rigid as the will of Fate. | 23 |
Round and round they flew, As when, in spring, about a chimney-top, A cloud of twittering swallows, just returned, Wheel round and round, and turn and wheel again, Unwinding their swift track. | 24 |
| Sparkle like brooks in the morning sun. | 25 |
| Sparkling like snow-wreaths in the early sun. | 26 |
Branches stream like the dishevelled hair Of women in the sadness of despair. | 27 |
| Sweep, like currents journeying through the windless deep. | 28 |
| Swept
like leaves before the autumn gale. | 29 |
| Swept
like ocean-tides uprising at the call of tyrant winds. | 30 |
| Sweet, as when winter storms have ceased to chide. | 31 |
Tenderly, as round the sleeping infants feet, We softly fold the cradle-sheet. | 32 |
| Voice like the music of rills. | 33 |
Thy pleasant youth, a little while withdrawn, Waits on the horizon of a brighter sky; Waits, like the morn, that folds her wings and hides Till the slow stars bring back her dawning hour; Waits, like the vanished spring, that slumbering bides Her own sweet time to waken bud and flower. | 34 |
| Wandering as the wind. | 35 |
| Waste
like April snow in the warm noon. | 36 |
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