Beauty poems

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Beauty's Metempsychosis

© William Watson

That beauty such as thine
 Can die indeed,
Were ordinance too wantonly malign:
No wit may reconcile so cold a creed
 With beauty such as thine.

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On A Midge

© George MacDonald

Whence do ye come, ye creatures? Each of you

Is perfect as an angel! wings and eyes

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Mount Erebus: (A Fragment)

© Henry Kendall

A MIGHTY theatre of snow and fire,

Girt with perpetual Winter, and sublime

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Her Passing

© William Henry Drummond

THE beauty and the life

  Of life's and beauty's fairest paragon

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What I Have Seen #4

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

I saw a youth, one of God's favored few,

Crowned with beauty, and talents, and health;

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Mediterranean Verses

© Robert Laurence Binyon

I
The desert sand at day's swift flight
Drank of the dew--cold vivid night
Where Nile flows as he flowed
When first men reaped and sowed

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The Sleeping City

© George Meredith

A Princess in the eastern tale
Paced thro' a marble city pale,
And saw in ghastly shapes of stone
The sculptured life she breathed alone;

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Drop the Pink Curtains

© Henry Clay Work

Baby girl, my beauty! now hush while I sing.
Birdies in the treetops have folded each wing.
Stars are softly twinkling afar in the skies,
Drop the pink curtains down over your eyes!

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Song. "The moment must come, when the hands that unite"

© Frances Anne Kemble

The moment must come, when the hands that unite

  In the firm clasp of friendship, will sever;

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Battle Of Corruna

© William Lisle Bowles

The tide of fate rolls on!--heart-pierced and pale,

  The gallant soldier lies, nor aught avail,

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Epilogue To Lessing's Laocooen

© Matthew Arnold

One morn as through Hyde Park  we walk'd,

My friend and I, by chance we talk'd

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Love Songs

© Sara Teasdale

But all remembered beauty is no more
Than a vague prelude to the thought of you -
You are the rarest soul I ever knew,
Lover of beauty, knightliest and best;
My thoughts seek you as waves that seek the shore,
And when I think of you, I am at rest.

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The Intellectual

© Karl Shapiro


The man behind the book may not be man,
His own man or the book’s or yet the time’s,
But still be whole, deciding what he can
In praise of politics or German rimes;

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Some Songs After Master Singers

© James Whitcomb Riley


  A little maid, of summers four--
  Did you compute her years,--
  And yet how infinitely more
  To me her age appears:

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Ode XI: On Love, To A Friend

© Mark Akenside

I.

No, foolish youth—To virtuous fame

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Sonnet 15

© Richard Barnfield

A[h] fairest Ganymede, disdaine me not,

Though silly Sheepeheard I, presume to loue thee,

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A Wren's Nest

© William Wordsworth

AMONG the dwellings framed by birds
  In field or forest with nice care,
Is none that with the little Wren's
  In snugness may compare.

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A Parlourmaid

© Lesbia Harford

"I want a parlourmaid."
"Well, let me see
If you were God, what kind of maid she'd be."
"She would be tall,

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A Fable For Critics

© James Russell Lowell

  'Why, nothing of consequence, save this attack
On my friend there, behind, by some pitiful hack,
Who thinks every national author a poor one,
That isn't a copy of something that's foreign, 
And assaults the American Dick--'

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The Judgment Of Paris

© Thomas Parnell

Where waving Pines the brows of Ida shade,
The swain young Paris half supinely laid,
Saw the loose Flocks thro' shrubs unnumber'd rove
And Piping call'd them to the gladded grove.
'Twas there he met the Message of the skies,
That he the Judge of Beauty deal the prize.