Figurative Language 1

Like burnt-out torches by a sick man's bed
Gaunt cypress-trees stand round

This story was told to me a million times as a youth.

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,

The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,

You make her grave green with tear on tear.

Maybe eating an entire chocolate cake for breakfast wasn't the healthiest way to start the day.

The leaves are little yellow fish
swimming in the river.

The leaves rustled and the shutters rattled.

The old clock down in the parlor
Like a sleepless mourner grieves.

By the lakes that thus outspread
Their lone waters, lone and dead
Their sad waters, sad and chilly.

Fame is a bee.
It has a song --
It has a sting --

I do not care to talk to you although
Your speech evokes a thousand sympathies.