Beauty poems
/ page 124 of 313 /
Quatrains
© Madison Julius Cawein
Above his misered embers, gnarled and gray,
With toil-twitched limbs he bends; around his hut,
Want, like a hobbling hag, goes night and day,
Scolding at windows and at doors tight-shut.
A Love-Song
© Confucius
The moon comes forth, bright in the sky;
A lovelier sight to draw my eye
Is she, that lady fair.
She round my heart has fixed love's chain,
But all my longings are in vain.
'Tis hard the grief to bear.
Conversation
© William Cowper
Though nature weigh our talents, and dispense
To every man his modicum of sense,
Pippa Passes: Part II: Noon
© Robert Browning
You by me,
And I by you; this is your hand in mine,
And side by side we sit: all's true. Thank God!
I have spoken: speak you!
The Window of Vulnerability
© Ken Smith
Sure today it could come in a fast plane
named perhaps for the pilot's mother,
the city ends in a smear in the road
and that in a child's shoe. No one
Manfred: A Dramatic Poem. Act II.
© George Gordon Byron
CHAMOIS HUNTER
No, no -- yet pause -- thou must not yet go forth:
Thy mind and body are alike unfit
To trust each other, for some hours, at least;
When thou art better, I will be thy guide--
But whither?
Araluen
© Henry Kendall
Take this rose, and very gently place it on the tender, deep
Mosses where our little darling, Araluen, lies asleep.
The Shepherd's Week : Wednesday; or, The Dumps
© John Gay
Sparabella.
The wailings of a maiden I recite,
The August Weeds
© Robert Laurence Binyon
I wandered between woods
On a grassy down, when still
Clouds hung after rain
Over hollow and hill;
The Rivulet
© William Cullen Bryant
This little rill, that from the springs
Of yonder grove its current brings,
Plays on the slope a while, and then
Goes prattling into groves again,
A Day
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Talk not of sad November, when a day
Of warm, glad sunshine fills the sky of noon,
And a wind, borrowed from some morn of June,
Stirs the brown grasses and the leafless spray.
The Renewal
© Robert Laurence Binyon
No more of sorrow, the world's old distress,
Nor war of thronging spirits numberless,
Immortal ardours in brief days confined,
No more the languid fever of mankind
The Roman: A Dramatic Poem
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
SCENE I.
A Plain in Italy-an ancient Battle-field. Time, Evening.
Persons.-Vittorio Santo, a Missionary of Freedom. He has gone out, disguised as a Monk, to preach the Unity of Italy, the Overthrow of Austrian Domination, and the Restoration of a great Roman Republic.--A number of Youths and Maidens, singing as they dance. 'The Monk' is musing.
Enter Dancers.
Virgin In A Tree
© Sylvia Plath
How this tart fable instructs
And mocks! Here's the parody of that moral mousetrap
Set in the proverbs stitched on samplers
Approving chased girls who get them to a tree
And put on bark's nun-black
The Zenana
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
And fragrant though the flowers are breathing,
From far and near together wreathing,
They are not those she used to wear,
Upon the midnight of her hair.
The Story Of A Soul.
© James Brunton Stephens
WHO can say "Thus far, no farther," to the tide of his own nature?
Who can mould the spirit's fashion to the counsel of his will?
Mystic and Cavalier
© Lionel Pigot Johnson
GO from me: I am one of those who fall.
What! hath no cold wind swept your heart at all,
Otho The Great - Act II
© John Keats
SCENE I. An Ante-chamber in the Castle.
Enter LUDOLPH and SIGIFRED.
There Is Still Splendour
© Robert Laurence Binyon
O when will life taste clean again? For the air
Is fouled: the world sees, hears; and each day brings
Vile fume that would corrupt eternal things,
Were they corruptible. Harsh trumpets blare
