His spirits sank like a stone
His talk is like an incessant play of fireworks
His voice is as the thin faint song when the wind wearily sighs in the grass
His voice rose like a stream of rich distilled perfumes
His voice was like the clap of thunder which interrupts the warbling birds among the leaves
His whole soul wavered and shook like a wind-swept leaf
His words gave a curious satisfaction, as when a coin, tested, rings true gold
Hopeful as the break of day
How like a saint she sleeps
How like a winter hath my absence been