Beauty poems
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Bande Mataram
© Sri Aurobindo
Mother, I bow to thee!
Rich with thy hurrying streams,
Bright with thy orchard gleams,
Cool with thy winds of delight,
Dark fields waving, Mother of might,
Mother free.
Poetry: A Metrical Essay, Read Before the Phi Beta Kappa Society, Harvard
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
Scenes of my youth! awake its slumbering fire!
Ye winds of Memory, sweep the silent lyre!
Ray of the past, if yet thou canst appear,
Break through the clouds of Fancyâs waning year;
Chase from her breast the thin autumnal snow,
If leaf or blossom still is fresh below!
Love
© George Moses Horton
Whilst tracing thy visage I sink in emotion,
For no other damsel so wond'rous I see;
Thy looks are so pleasing, thy charms so amazing,
I think of no other, my true-love, but thee.
I Cast My Net Into The Sea
© Rabindranath Tagore
In the morning I cast my net into the sea.
I dragged up from the dark abyss things of strange aspect and strange beauty -- some shone like a smile, some glistened like tears, and some were flushed like the cheeks of a bride.
Gazing At Mount Tai
© Du Fu
For all this, what is the mountain god like?
An unending green of lands north and south:
From ethereal beauty Creation distills
There, yin and yang split dusk and dawn.
In an Almshouse
© Augusta Davies Webster
They said you were not pretty, owed your charm
to choice of ribbons from your father's shop,
but, as for me, I saw not if you wore
too many ribbons or too few, nor sought
what charms you had beyond that one I knew,
the kind and honest look in your grey eyes.
Night Litany
© Ezra Pound
Yea the lines hast thou laid unto me
in pleasant places,
And the beauty of this thy Venice
hast thou shown unto me
Until is its loveliness become unto me
a thing of tears.
Modern Beauty
© Arthur Symons
I am the torch, she saith, and what to me
If the moth die of me? I am the flame
Of Beauty, and I burn that all may see
Beauty, and I have neither joy nor shame.
But live with that clear light of perfect fire
Which is to men the death of their desire.
The Forsaken
© Caroline Norton
IT is the music of her native land,--
The airs she used to love in happier days;
The lute is struck by some young gentle hand,
To soothe her spirit with remember'd lays.
II.
To John Gorham Palfrey
© James Russell Lowell
There are who triumph in a losing cause,
Who can put on defeat, as 'twere a wreath
Unwithering in the adverse popular breath,
Safe from the blasting demagogue's applause;
'Tis they who stand for Freedom and God's laws.
Ralph Isham, 1753 And Later
© Eli Siegel
Know you him, O, him,
Who lived in those days?
He wore a gay coat,
And he stepped along, jauntily, jauntily,
Happy Solitude--Unhappy Men
© William Cowper
My heart is easy, and my burden light;
I smile, though sad, when thou art in my sight:
The more my woes in secret I deplore,
I taste thy goodness, and I love thee more.
The Muses Threnodie: Sixth Muse
© Henry Adamson
From thence we passing by the Windy Gowle,
Did make the hollow rocks with echoes yowle,
And all alongst the mountains of Kinnoull,
Where did we shoot at many fox and fowl.
The Golden Corpse
© Stephen Vincent Benet
Stripped country, shrunken as a beggar's heart,
Inviolate landscape, hardened into steel,
Where the cold soil shatters under heel
Day after day like armor cracked apart.
"The Undying One" - Canto IV
© Caroline Norton
On she goes, and the waves are dashing
Under her stern, and under her prow;
Oh! pleasant the sound of the waters splashing
To those who the heat of the desert know.
Don Juan: Canto The Seventeenth
© George Gordon Byron
The world is full of orphans: firstly, those
Who are so in the strict sense of the phrase
A Portrait
© Richard Brinsley Sheridan
Tell me, ye prim adepts in Scandals school,
Who rail by precept, and detract by rule,
The Paint-Kings
© Washington Allston
Fair Ellen was long the delight of the young,
No damsel could with her compare;
Her charms were the theme of the heart and the tongue.
And bards without number in extacies sung,
The beauties of Ellen the fair.
