| Ancient as the sun.|| 1|
| Beautiful as ever looked|
From white clouds in a dream.
as friend with friend, or husband with wife,|
Makes hand in hand the passage of life.
| 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|
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.
| 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.
| 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is withdrawn.|| 21|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.
| 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.
| Sweep, like currents journeying through the windless deep.|| 28|
like leaves before the autumn gale.|| 29|
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.
| 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|Thy pleasant youth, a little while withdrawn,|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.
| Wandering as the wind.|| 35|
like April snow in the warm noon.|| 36|