Beauty poems
/ page 152 of 313 /
The Bride.
© Robert Crawford
Her bridal dawn! her heart was fed
Last night with eerie food,
As, one by one, her lovers dead
Came in the solitude,
Moon
© Annie Finch
Then are you the dense everywhere that moves,
the dark matter they haven't yet walked through?No, Im not. Im just the shining sun,
sometimes covered up by the darkness.But in your beautyyes, I know you see
There is no covering, no constant light.
Don Rafael
© Emma Lazarus
"I would not have," he said,
"Tears, nor the black pall, nor the wormy grave,
Grief's hideous panoply I would not have
Round me when I am dead.
How Beauty Contrived To Get Square With The Beast
© Guy Wetmore Carryl
Miss Guinevere Platt
Was so beautiful that
The Triumph
© Benjamin Jonson
SEE the Chariot at hand here of Love,
Wherein my Lady rideth!
Each that draws is a swan or a dove,
And well the car Love guideth.
The Cab Lamps
© Henry Lawson
THE CRESCENT MOON and clock tower are fair above the wall
Across the smothered lanes of Loo, the stifled vice and all,
And in the shadow yonderlike cats that wait for scraps
The crowding cabs seem waitingfor you and me, perhaps.
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part III: Gods And False Gods: LXVI
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
THE THREE AGES OF WOMAN
Love, in thy youth, a stranger, knelt to thee,
With cheeks all red and golden locks all curled,
And cried, ``Sweet child, if thou wilt worship me,
Epitaph On Elizabeth
© Benjamin Jonson
Wouldst thou hear what man can say
In a little? Reader, stay.
Underneath this stone doth lie
As much beauty as could die;
Which in life did harbor give
To more virture than doth live.
Tamara
© Mikhail Lermontov
Where waves of the Terek are waltzing
In Dariel's wickedest pass,
There rises from bleakest of storm crags
An ancient grey towering mass.
A Sonnet
© Oliver Goldsmith
WEEPING, murmuring, complaining,
Lost to every gay delight;
MYRA, too sincere for feigning,
Fears th' approaching bridal night.
The Camel-Rider
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
There is no thing in all the world but love,
No jubilant thing of sun or shade worth one sad tear.
Why dost thou ask my lips to fashion songs
Other than this, my song of love to thee?
The Husband Of To-Day
© Edith Nesbit
EYES caught by beauty, fancy by eyes caught;
Sweet possibilities, question, and wonder--
Jinny the Just
© Matthew Prior
Releas'd from the noise of the butcher and baker
Who, my old friends be thanked, did seldom forsake her,
And from the soft duns of my landlord the Quaker,
Song
© Matthew Prior
How old may Phyllis be, you ask,
Whose beauty thus all hearts engages?
To answer is no easy task;
For she has really two ages.
Death, that struck when I was most confiding
© Emily Jane Brontë
Death! that struck when I was most confiding.
In my certain faith of joy to be-
Strike again, Time's withered branch dividing
From the fresh root of Eternity!
An Old Sweetheart Of Mine
© James Whitcomb Riley
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone,
And muses on the faces of the friends that he has known,
So I turn the leaves of Fancy, till in shadowy design
I find the smiling features of an old sweetheart of mine.
Sunday up the River
© James Thomson
MY love o'er the water bends dreaming;
It glideth and glideth away:
She sees there her own beauty, gleaming
Through shadow and ripple and spray.
Julian and Maddalo : A Conversation
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I rode one evening with Count Maddalo
Upon the bank of land which breaks the flow
Of Adria towards Venice: a bare strand
Of hillocks, heaped from ever-shifting sand,
Afternoon At A Parsonage
© Jean Ingelow
Preface.
What wonder man should fail to stay
A nursling wafted from above,
The growth celestial come astray,
That tender growth whose name is Love!
