BEAUTY still walketh on the earth and air,
Our present sunsets are as rich in gold
As ere the Iliads music was out-rolld;
The roses of the Spring are ever fair,
Mong branches green still ring-doves coo and pair,
And the deep sea still foams its music old.
So, if we are at all divinely sould,
This beauty will unloose our bonds of care.
T is pleasant, when blue skies are oer us bending
Within old starry-gated Poesy,
To meet a soul set to no worldly tune,
Like thine, sweet Friend! Oh, dearer this to me
Than are the dewy trees, the sun, the moon,
Or noble music with a golden ending.
Beauty
written byAlexander Smith
© Alexander Smith