Like a locomotive-engine with unsound lungs
Like a long arrow through the dark the train is darting
Like a mirage, vague, dimly seen at first
Like a miser who spoils his coat with scanting a little cloth [scanting = short]
Like a mist the music drifted from the silvery strings
Like a moral lighthouse in the midst of a dark and troubled sea
Like a murmur of the wind came a gentle sound of stillness
Like a noisy argument in a drawing-room
Like a pageant of the Golden Year, in rich memorial pomp the hours go by
Like a pale flower by some sad maiden cherished