Beauty poems
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The World Within Us
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
PERCHANCE our inward world may partly be
But outward Nature's fine epitome;
Now, o'er it floats some cloud of tender pain
Too frail to hold the sad reserves of rain;
On The Death Of Mrs. Elizabeth Filmer. An Elegiacall Epitaph
© Richard Lovelace
You that shall live awhile, before
Old time tyrs, and is no more:
When that this ambitious stone
Stoopes low as what it tramples on:
"I can't feel the sunshine"
© Lesbia Harford
I can't feel the sunshine
Or see the stars aright
For thinking of her beauty
And her kisses bright.
The Banks Of Wye - Book II
© Robert Bloomfield
Return, my Llewellyn, the glory
That heroes may gain o'er the sea,
Though nations may feel
Their invincible steel,
By falsehood is tarnish'd in story;
Why tarry, Llewellyn, from me?
The River
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
UP among the dew-lit fallows
Slight but fair it took its rise,
And through rounds of golden shallows
Brightened under broadening skies;
Sonnet 85: I See The House
© Sir Philip Sidney
I see the house; my heart thyself contain,
Beware full sails drown not thy tott'ring barge,
Lest joy, by nature apt sprites to enlarge,
Thee to ty wrack beyond thy limits strain.
The Slave Ships
© John Greenleaf Whittier
"ALL ready?" cried the captain;
"Ay, ay!" the seamen said;
"Heave up the worthless lubbers,
The dying and the dead."
Mogg Megone - Part II.
© John Greenleaf Whittier
"O, tell me, father, can the dead
Walk on the earth, and look on us,
And lay upon the living's head
Their blessing or their curse?
For, O, last night she stood by me,
As I lay beneath the woodland tree!"
Baby's Age
© Henry Timrod
She came with April blooms and showers;
We count her little life by flowers.
Womanhood.
© Robert Crawford
She feels the world, it touches her
Like a weird thing she needs must know,
While all her fears and fancies stir
As in a death-dream long ago.
The Cottage
© Jones Very
The house my earthly parent left
My heavenly parent still throws down,
For 'tis of air and sun bereft,
Nor stars its roof with beauty crown.
To Eva Descending The Stair
© Sylvia Plath
Clocks cry: stillness is a lie, my dear;
The wheels revolve, the universe keeps running.
(Proud you halt upon the spiral stair.)
I Know All This When Gipsy Fiddles Cry
© Vachel Lindsay
Oh, sweating thieves, and hard-boiled scalawags,
That still will boast your pride until the doom,
Smashing every caste rule of the world,
Reaching at last your Hindu goal to smash
The caste rules of old India, and shout:
"Down with the Brahmins, let the Romany reign."
Lost And Found
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
"Whither art thou gone, fair Una?
Una fair, the moon is gleaming;
An Artist Of The Beautiful
© John Greenleaf Whittier
GEORGE FULLER
Haunted of Beauty, like the marvellous youth
The Muses Threnodie: Third Muse
© Henry Adamson
These be the first memorials of a bridge,
Good Monsier, that we truely can alledge.
Thus spoke good Gall, and I did much rejoyce
To hear him these antiquities disclose;
Which I remembering now, of force must cry
Gall, sweetest Gall, what ailed thee to die?
The DreamHouse
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Often we talk of the house that we will build
For airier and less jostled days than these
We chafe in, and send Fancy roaming wide
Down western valleys with a choosing eye
The Poet's Songs.
© Robert Crawford
The copse-wood merely sows
Itself, not planted;
And so it is with those
Strange and enchanted
