Beauty poems
/ page 218 of 313 /
A Forecast
© Archibald Lampman
One thing I know: if he be great and pure,
This love, this fire, this beauty shall endure;
Triumph and hope shall lead him by the palm:
But if not this, some differing thing he be,
That dream shall break in terror; he shall see
The whirlwind ripen, where he sowed the calm.
Ode to Vanity
© Mary Darby Robinson
Thy breath accurs'd brought deathless woe
On Man's devoted race;
Hurl'd th' aspiring FIEND to realms below,
Who, plung'd in fell disgrace,
There deep enthrall'd in adamantine spells,
In chains of scorpions bound, for ever, ever dwells.
The Ballad Of Mr. Cooke
© Francis Bret Harte
(LEGEND OF THE CLIFF HOUSE, SAN FRANCISCO)
Where the sturdy ocean breeze
Sir Eustace Grey
© George Crabbe
And shall I then the fact deny?
I was--thou know'st--I was begone,
Like him who fill'd the eastern throne,
To whom the Watcher cried aloud;
That royal wretch of Babylon,
Who was so guilty and so proud.
The Voyage Of St. Brendan A.D. 545 - The Buried City
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
Beside that giant stream that foams and swells
Betwixt Hy-Conaill and Moyarta's shore,
And guards the isle where good Senanus dwells,
A gentle maiden dwelt in days of yore.
Picture By Giov. Bellini, In The Church Of The Redentore At Venice
© Richard Monckton Milnes
THE VIRGIN.
Who am I, to be so far exalted
Over all the maidens of Judaea,
That here only in this lonely bosom
Song Of The Broad-Axe
© Walt Whitman
Strong shapes, and attributes of strong shapes-masculine trades,
sights and sounds;
Long varied train of an emblem, dabs of music;
Fingers of the organist skipping staccato over the keys of the great
organ.
Ballade Of Barren Roses
© Gertrude Bartlett
O Mystic Rose, the heart of Jesu, fair
Creative source from which all beauty flows,
Ever transfusing Love, hear now my prayer:
Resume for Love's own sake one barren rose.
Vertumnus and Pomona : Ovid's Metamorphoses, book 14 [v. 623-771]
© Alexander Pope
The fair Pomona flourish'd in his reign;
Of all the Virgins of the sylvan train,
The Angel In The House. Book II. The Prologue.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
II
The pulse of War, whose bloody heats
Sane purposes insanely work,
Now with fraternal frenzy beats,
And binds the Christian to the Turk,
And shrieking fifes
To a False Friend
© Louisa Stuart Costello
Adieu!'tis pastthe dream is over,
And we are friends no more;
And now my task shall be to smother
Thoughts prized too well before
That we have ever loved or met,
All, but our parting, to forget.
On The Death Of Lieutenant-Colonel Buller, Killed In Flanders In 1795
© Richard Brinsley Sheridan
Scarce hush'd the sigh, scarce dried the ling'ring
tear,
James Whitcomb Riley
© Edgar Albert Guest
There must be great rejoicin'
on the Golden Shore to-day,
An' the big an' little angels
The Triumph of Dead : Chap. 1
© Mary Sidney Herbert
That gallant lady, gloriously bright,
The stately pillar once of worthiness,
Beauty. Part III.
© Henry James Pye
'Tis in the mind that Beauty stands confess'd,
In all the noblest pride of glory dress'd,
Where virtue's rules the conscious bosom arm,
There to our eyes she spreads her brightest charm:
There all her rays, with force collected, shine,
Proclaim her worth, and speak her race divine.
The House Of Dust: Part 02: 03
© Conrad Aiken
The warm sun dreams in the dust, the warm sun falls
On bright red roofs and walls;
I Taught Myself To Live Simply
© Anna Akhmatova
I taught myself to live simply and wisely,
to look at the sky and pray to God,
Sonnet 52: A Strife Is Grown
© Sir Philip Sidney
A strife is grown between Virtue and Love,
While each pretends that Stella must be his:
Her eyes, her lips, her all, saith Love, do this
Since they do wear his badge, most firmly prove.
The Tryst
© Walter de la Mare
A music wistful for the sea-nymph's sake:
Haply Elijah, o'er his spokes of fire,
Cresting steep Leo, or the heavenly Lyre,
Spied, tranced in azure of inanest space,
Some eyrie hostel, meet for human grace,
Where two might happy be just you and I
The New Moon
© Sara Teasdale
DAY, you have bruised and beaten me,
As rain beats down the bright, proud sea,
Beaten my body, bruised my soul,
Left me nothing lovely or whole
