Beauty poems
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Sonnet 134: So, now I have confessed that he is thine
© William Shakespeare
So, now I have confessed that he is thine,
And I my self am mortgaged to thy will,
Myself I'll forfeit, so that other mine
Thou wilt restore to be my comfort still.
Sonnet 13: O, that you were your self! But, love, you are
© William Shakespeare
O, that you were your self! But, love, you are
No longer yours than you yourself here live.
Against this coming end you should prepare,
And your sweet semblance to some other give.
Sonnet 127: In the old age black was not counted fair
© William Shakespeare
In the old age black was not counted fair,
Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name;
But now is black beauty's successive heir,
And beauty slandered with a bastard shame.
Sonnet 12: When I do count the clock that tells the time
© William Shakespeare
When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet past prime,
And sable curls all silvered o'er with white;
Sonnet 115: Those lines that I before have writ do lie
© William Shakespeare
Those lines that I before have writ do lie,
Even those that said I could not love you dearer;
Yet then my judgment knew no reason why
My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer,
Sonnet 11: As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st
© William Shakespeare
As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st
In one of thine, from that which thou departest,
And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow'st,
Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth convertest.
The Ballad of St. Barbara
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
When the long grey lines came flooding upon Paris in the plain,
We stood and drank of the last free air we never could taste again;
They had led us back from a lost battle, to halt we knew not where,
And stilled us; and our gaping guns were dumb with our despair.
The grey tribes flowed for ever from the infinite lifeless lands,
And a Norman to a Breton spoke, his chin upon his hands:
Sonnet 106: When in the chronicle of wasted time
© William Shakespeare
When in the chronicle of wasted time
I see descriptions of the fairest wights,
And beauty making beautiful old rhyme
In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights,
Sonnet 101: O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends
© William Shakespeare
O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends
For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed?
Both truth and beauty on my love depends;
So dost thou too, and therein dignified.
Sonnet 10: For shame, deny that thou bear'st love to any
© William Shakespeare
For shame, deny that thou bear'st love to any
Who for thy self art so unprovident.
Grant, if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many,
But that thou none lov'st is most evident;
Sonnet 1: From fairest creatures we desire increase
© William Shakespeare
From fairest creatures we desire increase,
That thereby beauty's rose might never die,
But as the riper should by time decease,
His tender heir might bear his memory;
Sonet LIV
© William Shakespeare
O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odour which doth in it live.
Silvia
© William Shakespeare
WHO is Silvia? What is she?
That all our swains commend her?
Holy, fair, and wise is she;
The heaven such grace did lend her,
That she might admired be.
Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck (Sonnet 14)
© William Shakespeare
Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck,
And yet methinks I have astronomy;
But not to tell of good or evil luck,
Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality;
A Lover's Complaint
© William Shakespeare
FROM off a hill whose concave womb reworded
A plaintful story from a sistering vale,
My spirits to attend this double voice accorded,
And down I laid to list the sad-tuned tale;
The Vanity of Human Wishes (excerpts)
© Samuel Johnson
45 Yet still one gen'ral cry the skies assails,
46 And gain and grandeur load the tainted gales,
47 Few know the toiling statesman's fear or care,
48 Th' insidious rival and the gaping heir.
Beauty.
© Robert Crawford
He came upon her with a soul athirst
For Beauty, and she unveiled all to him,
As if in an imaginary light
Revealing all her wondrous rarity,
Sordello: Book the Third
© Robert Browning
Whereat he rose.
The level wind carried above the firs
Clouds, the irrevocable travellers,
Onward.
October
© Madison Julius Cawein
I oft have met her slowly wandering
Beside a leafy stream, her locks blown wild,
damsel flies
© Rg Gregory
certain creatures it seems are never seen
straight on - they occupy the corner of the eye
once sensed (a second look) they're gone
the damsel even more so than the dragon-fly
