Beauty poems
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The Phantom-Song
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
IN museful hours, when thoughts of grace divine
Roll wave-like up the stormless strand of dreams;--
When that which is grows vague as that which seems,--
I mark, far-off, a radiant shade incline
Dusk
© Jose Asuncion Silva
The lamp that stands beside the crib
Is not yet lighted to warm the gloom
Of the blueish, opaque light falling
Through the curtains of late afternoon.
James Lionel Michael
© Henry Kendall
Latter leaves, in Autumns breath,
White and sere,
Sanctify the scholars death,
Lying here.
How Florence Rings Her Bells
© Alfred Austin
With shimmer of steel and blare of brass,
And Switzers marching with martial stride,
And cavaliers trampling brown the grass,
Came bow-legged Charles through the Apennine pass,
With black Il Moro for traitor guide;
Her Beauty
© Max Plowman
I heard them say, "Her hands are hard as stone,"
And I remembered how she laid for me
The Presentiment
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
OVER her face, so tender and meek,
The light of a prophecy lies,
That has silvered the red of the rose on her cheek,
And chastened the thought in her eyes!
Transmutation
© Madison Julius Cawein
To me all beauty that I see
Is melody made visible:
An earth-translated state, may be,
Of music heard in Heaven or Hell.
Fragmentary Scenes From The Road To Avernus
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
Scene I
"Discontent"
LAURENCE RABY.
The Friends Burial
© John Greenleaf Whittier
My thoughts are all in yonder town,
Where, wept by many tears,
To-day my mother's friend lays down
The burden of her years.
Elegy II
© Henry James Pye
Now the brown woods their leafy load resign
And rage the tempests with resistless force?
Prayer for the Dead by Stuart Kestenbaum: American Life in Poetry #181 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureat
© Ted Kooser
Stuart Kestenbaum, the author of this week's poem, lost his brother Howard in the destruction of the twin towers of the World Trade Center. We thought it appropriate to commemorate the events of September 11, 2001, by sharing this poem. The poet is the director of the Haystack Mountain School of Crafts on Deer Isle, Maine.
Prayer for the Dead
Flower And Voice
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Tremulous out of that long darkness, how
Wast thou, O blossom, made
Upon the wintry bough?
What drew thee to appear,
Foreword to Weeds By The Wall
© Madison Julius Cawein
_In the first rare spring of song,
In my heart's young hours,
In my youth 't was thus I sang,
Choosing 'mid the flowers:--_
The Age Of Ink
© Edgar Albert Guest
Swiftly the changes come. Each day
Sees some lost beauty blown away
Metamorphoses: Book The Thirteenth
© Ovid
The End of the Thirteenth Book.
Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands
The House Of Dust: Part 02: 09:
© Conrad Aiken
The days, the nights, flow one by one above us,
The hours go silently over our lifted faces,
We are like dreamers who walk beneath a sea.
Beneath high walls we flow in the sun together.
We sleep, we wake, we laugh, we pursue, we flee.
The New Woman.
© Arthur Henry Adams
THE stone that all the sullen centuries,
With sluggish hands and massive fingers rude,
Against the sepulchre of womanhood
Had sternly held, she has thrust back with ease,
Written in London. September, 1802
© William Wordsworth
O Friend! I know not which way I must look
For comfort, being, as I am, opprest,
