Beauty poems

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Nature The Consoler

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

GLADLY I hail these solitudes, and breathe
The inspiring breath of the fresh woodland air,
Most gladly to the past alone bequeath
Doubt, grief, and care;

Maternal Grief

© William Wordsworth

DEPARTED Child! I could forget thee once
Though at my bosom nursed; this woeful gain
Thy dissolution brings, that in my soul
Is present and perpetually abides

Lara. A Tale

© George Gordon Byron

Proud Otho on the instant, reddening, threw
His glove on earth, and forth his sabre flew.
"The last alternative befits me best,
And thus I answer for mine absent guest."

Tu mettrais l'univers entier dans ta ruelle (You Would Take The Whole World To Bed With You)

© Charles Baudelaire

Tu mettrais l'univers entier dans ta ruelle,
Femme impure! L'ennui rend ton âme cruelle.
Pour exercer tes dents à ce jeu singulier,
Il te faut chaque jour un coeur au râtelier.

Spring On Mattagmi

© Duncan Campbell Scott

Far in the east the rain-clouds sweep and harry,

Down the long haggard hills, formless and low,

The Mountain Of The Lovers

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

I.
LOVE scorns degrees! the low he lifteth high,
The high he draweth down to that fair plain
Whereon, in his divine equality,

"Who claims our Shakespeare from that realm unknown,
Beyond the storm-vexed islands of the deep,
Where Genoa's roving mariner was blown?
Her twofold Saint's-day let our England keep;
Shall warring aliens share her holy task?"
The Old World echoes ask.

After A Lecture On Wordsworth

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

COME, spread your wings, as I spread mine,
And leave the crowded hall
For where the eyes of twilight shine
O'er evening's western wall.

Couplet 9

© Amir Khusro

Farsi Couplet:
Ba khak darat rau ast maara,
Gar surmah bechashm dar neaayad.

Hiawatha's Photographing

© Lewis Carroll

From his shoulder Hiawatha
Took the camera of rosewood,
Made of sliding, folding rosewood;
Neatly put it all together.
In its case it lay compactly,
Folded into nearly nothing;

Good Counsel to a Young Maid

© Thomas Carew

GAZE not on thy beauty's pride,
Tender maid, in the false tide
That from lovers' eyes doth slide.
Let thy faithful crystal show
How thy colours come and go :
Beauty takes a foil from woe.

The Borough. Letter I

© George Crabbe

"DESCRIBE the Borough"--though our idle tribe

May love description, can we so describe,

The Little Old Woman

There's a Little Old Woman walks in the night,
Singing her love song like a falling keen;
The Little Old Woman is the heart's delight,
With the gold crown under her hood to tell her queen.

The Triumph Of Fashion

She spoke, and while her voice the war defy'd,
Assembling myriads croud on every side;
Undaunted to the field of death they go,
And frown amazement on the approaching foe:
With dreadful shock the encount'ring armies meet,
And the plain trembling, rocks beneath their feet.