Beauty poems

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Prologue For A Modern Painter

© Arthur Symons

Hear the hymn of the body of man:
This is how the world began;
In these tangles of mighty flesh
The stuff of the earth is moulded afresh.

The Lily of The Valley

© George MacDonald

There is not any weed but hath its shower,

There is not any pool but hath its star;

Song III. - Ye gentle Nymphs and generous Dames

© William Shenstone

Ye gentle Nymphs and generous Dames,
That rule o'er every British mind!
Be sure ye soothe their amorous flames,
Be sure your laws are not unkind:

The Trance

© Stephen Spender

Restless, you turn to me and press
Those timid words against my ear
Which thunder at my heart like stones.
"Mercy," you plead, Then "Who can bless?"
You ask. "I am pursued by Time," you moan.

Giacinta sat upon the garden wall
Among the autumn lilies, and let fall
Their crimson petals on her lover's head,
And laughed because her little hands were red.
She was the fairest child of Italy,
And it was well the lilies thus should die.

A Niello

© Madison Julius Cawein

It is not early spring and yet
Of bloodroot blooms along the stream,
And blotted banks of violet,
My heart will dream.

Elegy I

© Rainer Maria Rilke

Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels'

hierarchies? and even if one of them suddenly

Letters To The Roman Friend

© Joseph Brodsky

From Martial

Now is windy and the waves are cresting over

White Nassau

© Bliss William Carman

She's ringed with surf and coral, she's crowned with sun and palm;
She has the old-world leisure, the regal tropic calm;
The trade winds fan her forehead; in everlasting June
She reigns from deep verandas above her blue lagoon.

Old Spanish Song

© Eugene Field

I'm thinking of the wooing

That won my maiden heart

Song of the Guitar.

© Bai Juyi

In the tenth year of Yuanhe I was banished and demoted to be assistant official in Jiujiang. In the summer of the next year I was seeing a friend leave Penpu and heard in the midnight from a neighbouring boat a guitar played in the manner of the capital. Upon inquiry, I found that the player had formerly been a dancing-girl there and in her maturity had been married to a merchant. I invited her to my boat to have her play for us. She told me her story, heyday and then unhappiness. Since my departure from the capital I had not felt sad; but that night, after I left her, I began to realize my banishment. And I wrote this long poem - six hundred and twelve characters.

I was bidding a guest farewell, at night on the Xunyang River,

Dedication

© Alfred Tennyson

Dedication
These to His Memory-since he held them dear,
Perchance as finding there unconsciously
Some image of himself-I dedicate,
I dedicate, I consecrate with tears-
These Idylls.

Dusk

© Madison Julius Cawein

Corn-colored clouds upon a sky of gold,

And 'mid their sheaves,-where, like a daisy-bloom

The Fate of the Explorers (A Fragment)

Through that night he uttered little, rambling were the words he spoke:
And he turned and died in silence, when the tardy morning broke.
Many memories come together whilst in sight of death we dwell,
Much of sweet and sad reflection through the weary mind must well.
As those long hours glided past him, till the east with light was fraught,
Who may know the mournful secret who can tell us what he thought?