Beauty poems

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"Manus Animam Pinxit"

© Francis Thompson

Lady who hold'st on me dominion!

Within your spirit's arms I stay me fast

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Amarantha. A Pastorall

© Richard Lovelace

  Up with the jolly bird of light
Who sounds his third retreat to night;
Faire Amarantha from her bed
Ashamed starts, and rises red

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Our Sunday morning when dawn-priests were applying

© John Berryman

'Death is the mother of beauty.' Awry no leaf
Shivering with delight, we die to be well..
Careless with sleepy love, so long unloving.
What if our convalescence must be bried
As we are, the matin meet the passing bell?..
About our pines our sister, wind, is moving.

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Appreciation

© George Meredith

Earth was not Earth before her sons appeared,

Nor Beauty Beauty ere young Love was born:

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Love #1.

© Robert Crawford

E'en her own eyes tell Beauty she is fair;
And Love need know no language save his own
In any clime to read the heart's desire;
The Titicacan and Caucasian's his —

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Her Face.

© Robert Crawford

There is a something in her face
Which in no other I can trace,
And feelings sweet as music stir
When I gaze in her dreamy eyes,

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Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs

© Anne Sexton

No matter what life you lead
the virgin is a lovely number:
cheeks as fragile as cigarette paper,
arms and legs made of Limoges,

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Spring

© William Wilfred Campbell

There dwells a spirit in the budding year-

As motherhood doth beautify the face-

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Briar Rose (Sleeping Beauty)

© Anne Sexton

Consider
a girl who keeps slipping off,
arms limp as old carrots,
into the hypnotist's trance,

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Symphonic Studies (After Schumann)

© Emma Lazarus

Prelude

Blue storm-clouds in hot heavens of mid-July

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Ode To Dragon

© Hannah More

Dragon! since lyrics are the mode,
To thee I dedicate my Ode,
And reason good I plead:
Are those who cannot write, to blame
To draw their hopes of future fame,
From those who cannot read?

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Fall of the Evening Star

© Kenneth Patchen

And the earth takes it softly, in natural love…
Exactly as we take each other…
and go to sleep…

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Youth And Beauty

© William Carlos Williams

I bought a dishmop—
having no daughter—
for they had twisted
fine ribbons of shining copper

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Patience

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

SHE hath no beauty in her face,
Unless the chastened sweetness there
And meek long-suffering yield a grace
To make her mournful features fair.

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The Crowd At The Ball Game

© William Carlos Williams

The crowd at the ball game
is moved uniformly
by a spirit of uselessness
which delights them—

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To A Vain Lady

© George Gordon Byron

Ah! heedless girl! why thus disclose
  What ne'er was meant for other ears:
Why thus destroy thine own repose
  And dig the source of future tears?

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The Princess (part 2)

© Alfred Tennyson

At break of day the College Portress came:

She brought us Academic silks, in hue

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To Simplicity

© Mary Darby Robinson

[Inscribed to Lady Duncannon.]
SWEET blushing Nymph, who loves to dwell
In the dark forest's silent gloom;
Who smiles within the Hermit's cell,

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The Widow's Home

© Mary Darby Robinson

Close on the margin of a brawling brook
That bathes the low dell's bosom, stands a Cot;
O'ershadow'd by broad Alders. At its door
A rude seat, with an ozier canopy

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And as its Going

© Anna Akhmatova

And as it's going often at love's breaking,
The ghost of first days came again to us,
The silver willow through window then stretched in,
The silver beauty of her gentle branches.