Beauty poems
/ page 213 of 313 /The Lily and the Bee
© Henry Lawson
Consider the lilies!
But, it occurs to me,
Does any one consider
The lily and the bee?
The Purgatory Of St. Patrick - Act III
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
LUIS. Oh, that name
Do not mention! do not kill me
By repeating what doth thrill me
To the centre of my frame
As with lightning. Yes, I know
That at length Polonia died.
Eileen Oge (Pride of Petravore)
© William Percy French
Eileen Oge! me heart is growin' grey
Ever since the day you wandered far away;
Eileen Oge! there's good fish in the sea,
But there's no one like the Pride of Petravore.
Poems On Love
© Rabindranath Tagore
Love adorns itself;
it seeks to prove inward joy by outward beauty.
A Forest Hymn
© William Cullen Bryant
The groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned
To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave,
The Fountain
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Traveller! on thy journey toiling
By the swift Powow,
With the summer sunshine falling
On thy heated brow,
Listen, while all else is still,
To the brooklet from the hill.
Late October
© Madison Julius Cawein
Ah, haughty hills, sardonic solitudes,
What wizard touch hath, crowning you with gold,
Cast Tyrian purple o'er broad-shouldered woods,
And to your pride anointed empire sold
For wan traditioned death, whose misty moods
Shake each huge throne of quarried shadows cold?
On A Viola D'Amore
© Mathilde Blind
A century of silence lay
On strings that had not spoken
Since powdered lords to ladies gay
Gave, for a lover's token,
Fans glowing fresh from Watteau's art,
Well worth a marchioness's heart.
Dinah in Heaven
© Rudyard Kipling
She did not know that she was dead,
But, when the pang was o'er,
Sat down to wait her Master's tread
Upon the Golden Floor,
My Beloved
© Rabia al Basri
My peace, O my brothers and sisters, is my solitude,
And my Beloved is with me always,
A Child in the Garden
© Henry Van Dyke
Then just within the gate I saw a child, -
A stranger-child, yet to my heart most dear;
He held his hands to me, and softly smiled
With eyes that knew no shade of sin or fear:
"Come in," he said, "and play awhile with me;"
"I am the little child you used to be."
Arab Love-Song
© Arthur Symons
What matters it to me if the rain fall,
Since I must: die of thirst? Her eyes are faint,
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: XV
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Thus it began with laughter. But anon
The ox--eyed queen, who had resumed by rote
The tale of her perfections one by one,
Turned by some ominous chance towards the spot
The New Days
© Edgar Albert Guest
The old days, the old days, how oft the poets sing,
The days of hope at dewy morn, the days of early spring,
The Precocious Baby - a Very True Tale
© William Schwenck Gilbert
An elderly person - a prophet by trade -
With his quips and tips
Poem For The Dedication Of The Fountain At Stratford-On-Avon
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
PRESENTED BY GEORGE W. CHILDS, OF PHILADELPHIA
WELCOME, thrice welcome is thy silvery gleam,
The Orange-Peel In The Gutter
© Mathilde Blind
BEHOLD, unto myself I said,
This place how dull and desolate,
The Indian Cupid
© Louisa Stuart Costello
Often and long, on the summer sea,
In the moonlight have I watched for thee
When the glittering beam was downward thrown,
And each wave with a crest of diamond shone.
I have seen the thin clouds sail along,
And I raised, to welcome thee, many a song;