Frank J. Wilstach, comp. A Dictionary of Similes. 1916.

Jean Ingelow

Bereft,
As trees that suddenly have dropped their leaves.

Bright,
Most like a fleet of stars that southing go.

Calm as the solitude between wide stars.

Chatter … Like silly school-girls in the silliest mood.

Her cheeks like winter apples red of hue.

Clear as the flame of sacrifice.

Comforting as April air
After the snow.

Sighs as deep as destiny.

Drifted like a scarlet feather
Torn from the folded wings of clouds.

Sweet eyes … tender as the deeps in yonder skies.

Her face like roses blown,
And in the radiance and the hush,
Her thought was shown.

Fade like an August marigold.

Faint as the light of stars and wan.

Forlorn,
As the night-owl’s sob of fear,
As Memnon mourning at morn.

Good and free
As when poor Eve was innocent.

Fresh as milk and roses.

Grand as the frigate on the wind.

Hollower than an echo fallen
Across some clear abyss.

Light as a rustling foot on last year’s leaves.

Melt like gold refined.

Standing as motionless as pillar set
To guide a wanderer in a pathless waste.

Like coral insects multitudinous.

Pale she was
As lily yet unsmiled on by the sun.

Placidly … as waiting to be sheeted home.

Like a wild thing, suddenly aware
That it is caged, which flings and bruises all
Its body at the bars, he rose, and raged.

Red as an angry sunset.

Remote, as the dead lords of song,
Great masters who have made us what we are.

Reverend as Lear.

Shook as one that looks on death.

Silent as sleep or shadow.

Smoothly glide
As ships drop down a river with the tide.

Soft as love’s first word.

Soft as cream.

Still as a rock set in the watery deep.

Tender as russet crimson dropt on snows.

Thick as a swarm of bees.

Trembled like a thing about to die.

True as time.

Wan,
As a lily in the shade.

Wan
As snow at night when the moon is gone.

White,
Like ships in heaven full-sailed.

White as the snowy rose of Guelderland.