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