Beauty poems

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Endimion and Phoebe (excerpts)

© Michael Drayton

In Ionia whence sprang old poets' fame,
From whom that sea did first derive her name,
The blessed bed whereon the Muses lay,
Beauty of Greece, the pride of Asia,

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Pallas And Venus. An Epigram

© Matthew Prior

The Trojan swain had judged the great dispute,
And beauty's power obtain'd the golden fruit,
When Venus, loose in all her naked charms,
Met Jove's great daughter clad in shining arms,
The wanton goddess view'd the warlike maid
From head to foot, and tauntingly she said;

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Sonnet XXIX: When Conquering Love

© Michael Drayton

To the SensesWhen conquering Love did first my Heart assail,
Unto mine aid I summon'd every Sense,
Doubting, if that proud tyrant should prevail,
My Heart should suffer for mine Eyes' offence;

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Sonnet III: Taking My Pen

© Michael Drayton

Taking my pen, with words to cast my woe,
Duly to count the sum of all my cares,
I find my griefs innumerable grow,
The reckonings rise to millions of despairs;

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Sonnet XVII: Stay, Speedy Time

© Michael Drayton

To TimeStay, speedy Time, behold, before thou pass,
From age to age what thou hast sought to see,
One in whom all the excellencies be,
In whom Heav'n looks itself as in a glass.

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To The Querulous Poets

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

THROW by the trappings of your tinsel rhyme!
Hush the crude voice, whose neverending wail
Blights the sweet song of thrush, or nightingale,--
Set to the treble of our querulous time;

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Oh! snatched away in beauty's bloom

© George Gordon Byron

Oh! snatched away in beauty's bloom,
On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;
But on thy turf shall roses rear
Their leaves, the earliest of the year;
And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom:

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Sonnet XIV: If He From Heav'n

© Michael Drayton

If he from Heav'n that filch'd that living fire
Condemn'd by Jove to endless torment be,
I greatly marvel how you still go free
That far beyond Prometheus did aspire.

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Sonnet IV: Bright Star of Beauty

© Michael Drayton

Bright star of beauty, on whose eyelids sit
A thousand nymph-like and enamour'd Graces,
The Goddesses of Memory and Wit,
Which there in order take their several places;

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Kathaleen Ny-Houlahan

© James Clarence Mangan

LONG they pine in weary woe - the nobles of our land -
Long they wander to and fro, proscribed, alas! and banned;
Feastless, houseless, altarless, they bear the exie's brand,
 But their hope is in the coming-to of Kathaleen Ny-Houlahan.

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Idea XX

© Michael Drayton

An evil spirit, your beauty, haunts me still,Wherewith, alas, I have been long possess'd,Which ceaseth not to tempt me to each ill,Nor gives me once but one poor minute's rest

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Wordsworth's Grave

© William Watson

The old rude church, with bare, bald tower, is here;
  Beneath its shadow high-born Rotha flows;
Rotha, remembering well who slumbers near,
  And with cool murmur lulling his repose

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Sonnet LII: What? Dost Thou Mean

© Michael Drayton

What? Dost thou mean to cheat me of my heart?
To take all mine and give me none again?
Or have thine eyes such magic or that art
That what they get they ever do retain?

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Sonnet XX: An Evil Spirit

© Michael Drayton

An evil spirit, your beauty haunts me still,
Wherewith, alas, I have been long possest,
Which ceaseth not to tempt me to each ill,
Nor gives me once but one poor minute's rest;

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Italy : 1. The Lake Of Geneva

© Samuel Rogers

Day glimmered in the east, and the white Moon

Hung like a vapour in the cloudless sky,

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The Coquette

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

Alone she sat with her accusing heart,
That, like a restless comrade frightened sleep,
And every thought that found her, left a dart
That hurt her so, she could not even weep.

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From the Drama of “Charles II”

© Douglas Brooke Wheelton Sladen

COME and kiss me, mistress Beauty,  

I will give you all that ’s due t’ye.  

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Albanian Language (excerpt)

© Ndre Mjeda

Higher than nightingale’s song
Albanian language resounds to me
More than bluebell’s scent ever can,
it comforts my heart restlessly.

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Astrophel And Stella-Tenth Song

© Sir Philip Sidney

Oh dear life, when shall it be
That mine eyes thine eyes may see?
And in them thy mind discover,
Whether absence have had force
Thy remembrance to divorce
From the image of thy lover?

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The Advice

© Thomas Chatterton

Tho' poor Pitholeon's feeble line,
In opposition to the nine,
Still violates your name;
Tho' tales of passion meanly told,
As dull as Cumberland, as cold,
Strive to confess a flame.