| Gone as a gone goose.|
| Gone as a shadow goes.|
R. D. Blackmore
| Gone as evanescent cloudlands.|
|Gone, like traces on the deep,|
Like a spectre graspd in sleep,
Dews inhald from morning glades,
Melting snows, and gliding shades.
| Quite gone
like a lost star.|
like ice on a June day.|
| Gone into their snares like a thread into a needle.|
| Gone, like a vapor which the potent morn kills, and in killing glorifies.|
|Gone like the bubble that bursts in the sun;|
Gone like the grain when the reaper is done;
Gone like the dew on the fresh morning grass;
Gone without parting farewell; and alas!
Gone with a flavor of hydrogen gas!
|Gone like the locust band, when whirlwinds bear|
Their flimsy legions through the waste of air.
| Gone, like smoke dissolved in air.|
|Gone, like the tenants that quit without warning,|
Down the back entry of time.
Oliver Wendell Holmes
| Gone, like the spray.|
| Thou art gone from my gaze like a beautiful dream.|
|Gone was every trace of sorrow,|
As the fog from off the river,
As the mist from off the meadow.
Henry W. Longfellow
| Gane, like the flowers o spring awa, or like a vision perished.|
| Seen no more,|
Gone, like the wind that raised the wave,
The spent wave on the shore.
| Gone like a meteor.|
| Gone, like the thoughts that once were ours.|
| Gone like all things else that men set life upon.|
F. W. H. Myers
| To-day we are here, to-morrow gone, like the shadow that vanisheth, like the grass that withereth, or like the flower that fadeth; or indeed like anything, or rather like nothing.|
| Gone, as an angels wing through an opening cloud is seen, and then withdrawn.|
| Gone as soon as a grain of corn thrown to an ant.|
| Gone as an unreturning river.|
Christina Georgina Rossetti
|Like the dew on the mountain,|
Like the foam on the river,
Like the bubble on the fountain,
Thou art gone, and forever.
Sir Walter Scott
| Gone like the bloom upon the heather.|
J. B. Selkirk
| Gone, as they never had been.|
| Gone like shadow when it declineth.|
|Your early splendors gone|
Like stars into a cloud withdrawn
Like music laid asleep
In dried up fountains.
| Gone, like the summer lightnings gleam.|
As the fox-hunter follows the sound of the horn.
John Greenleaf Whittier
| The red man has gone like the mist on the air.|
John Greenleaf Whittier
| Gone as a cloud faded into the sky.|
William Butler Yeats