Vague as a dream

Vague thoughts that stream shapelessly through her mind like long sad vapors through the twilight sky

Vanish into thin air, like ghosts at the cockcrow

Vanished like snow when comes a thaw

Vanished like vapor before the sun

Vibrations set quivering like harp strings struck by the hand of a master

Vociferous praise following like a noisy wave

W

Walking somewhat unsteadily like a blind man feeling his way

Waves glittered and danced on all sides like millions of diamonds

We left her and retraced our steps like faithless hounds

Weak and frail like the vapor of a vale

Wearing their wounds like stars

Weary wind, who wanderest like the world’s rejected guest

When a draft might puff them out like a guttering candle
      [guttering = To melt through the side of the hollow in a candle
       formed by a burning wick; to burn low and unsteadily; flicker]

When arm in arm they both came swiftly running,
like a pair of turtle-doves that could not live asunder day or night

When cards, invitations, and three-corn’d notes
fly about like white butterflies

When she died, her breath whistled like the wind in a keyhole

When the fever pierced me like a knife

Where a lamp of deathless beauty shines like a beacon

Where heroes die as leaves fall

Where the intricate wheels of trade are grinding on, like a mill

Where the source of the waters is fine as a thread

Whilst the lagging hours of the day went by
like windless clouds o’er a tender sky

Whistled sharply in the air like a handful of vipers

White as a ghost from darkness

White as chalk

White as dove or lily, or spirit of the light

White as the driven snow

White as the moon’s white flame

White as the sea-bird’s wing

White clouds like daisies

White hands she moves like swimming swans

White hands through her hair,
like white doves going into the shadow of a wood

White like flame

White sails of sloops like specters

Whose bodies are as strong as alabaster

Whose hair was as gold raiment on a king

Whose laugh moves like a bat through silent haunted woods

Whose little eyes glow like the sparks of fire

Whose music like a robe of living light reclothed each new-born age

Windy speech which hits all around the mark like a drunken carpenter

Winged like an arrow to its mark

With a sting like a scorpion

With all the complacency of a homeless cat

With an angry broken roar, like billows on an unseen shore, their fury burst