Beauty poems
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Anashuya And Vijaya
© William Butler Yeats
A little Indian temple in the Golden Age. Around it a garden;
around that the forest. Anashuya, the young priestess, kneeling
Winter Hue's Recalled
© Archibald Lampman
Life is not all for effort: there are hours,
When fancy breaks from the exacting will,
Palmyra (1st Edition)
© Thomas Love Peacock
--anankta ton pantôn huperbal-
lonta chronon makarôn.
Pindar. Hymn. frag. 33
An Ode For The Fourth Of July
© James Russell Lowell
Entranced I saw a vision in the cloud
That loitered dreaming in yon sunset sky,
Under the Figtree
© Henry Kendall
Like drifts of balm from cedared glens, those darling memories come,
With soft low songs, and dear old tales, familiar to our home.
The First Part: Sonnet 13 - O sacred blush, impurpling cheeks' pure skies
© William Henry Drummond
O sacred blush, impurpling cheeks' pure skies
With crimson wings which spread thee like the morn;
The Ring And The Book - Chapter II - Half-Rome
© Robert Browning
All five soon somehow found themselves at Rome,
At the villa door: there was the warmth and light
The sense of life so just an inch inside
Some angel must have whispered One more chance!
The True Beauty
© Thomas Carew
He that loves a rosy cheek
Or coral lip admires,
Or from star-like eyes doth seek
Fuel to maintain his fires ;
As old Time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.
A Bird and flower upon the tree
© Augusta Davies Webster
A bird and flower upon the tree,
Sweet peony and oriole,
Each of them a perfect soul,
Song and sweetness manifest
The bird and flower we love the best
Side by side on the tall tree.
Moss on a Wall
© Henry Kendall
Dim dreams it hath of singing ways,
Of far-off woodland water-heads,
And shining ends of April days
Amongst the yellow runnel-beds.
My Lady April
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
Say, doth she weep for very wantonness?
Or is it that she dimly doth foresee
Across her youth the joys grow less and less
The burden of the days that are to be:
Autumn and withered leaves and vanity,
And winter bringing end in barrenness.
Song.Oh, had I ne'er beheld thee
© Louisa Stuart Costello
Oh! had I ne'er beheld thee
How calm my life had flown!
As cold, as pure and tranquil
As some fair vale unknown;
The Hyacinth
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
HERE in this wrecked storm-wasted garden-close
The grave of infinite generations fled
Of flowers that now lay lustreless and dead,
As the gray dust of Eden's earliest rose.
Tristrams End
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Tristram
Isoult, Isoult, thy kiss!
To sorrow though I was made,
I die in bliss, in bliss.
A Summer Pilgrimage
© John Greenleaf Whittier
To kneel before some saintly shrine,
To breathe the health of airs divine,
Homage To Sextus Propertius - I
© Ezra Pound
Flame burns, rain sinks into the cracks
And they all go to rack ruin beneath the thud of the years.
Stands genius a deathless adornment,
a name not to be worn out with the years.
Roses And Pearls
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
YOUR spoken words are roses fine and sweet,
The songs you sing are perfect pearls of sound.
The Courtship Of Miles Standish
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Thereupon answered the youth: "Indeed I do not condemn you;
Stouter hearts that a woman's have quailed in this terrible winter.
Yours is tender and trusting, and needs a stronger to lean on;
So I have come to you now, with an offer and proffer of marriage
Made by a good man and true, Miles Standish the Captain of Plymouth!"
Epochs
© Emma Lazarus
Thin summer rain on grass and bush and hedge,
Reddening the road and deepening the green
On wide, blurred lawn, and in close-tangled sedge;
Veiling in gray the landscape stretched between
These low broad meadows and the pale hills seen
But dimly on the far horizon's edge.
