Beauty poems
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Tristesses de la lune (Sorrows Of The Moon)
© Charles Baudelaire
Ce soir, la lune rêve avec plus de paresse;
Ainsi qu'une beauté, sur de nombreux coussins,
Qui d'une main distraite et légère caresse
Avant de s'endormir le contour de ses seins,
Sonnets LLXXI:LXXII:LXXIII: The Choice
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
I
Eat thou and drink; to-morrow thou shalt die.
The Blessing
© Charles Baudelaire
Since I must be chosen among all women that are
To bear the lifetime's grudge of a sullen husband,
And since I cannot get rid of this caricature,
-Fling it away like old letters to be burned,
Oxford In WarTime
© Robert Laurence Binyon
What alters you, familiar lawn and tower,
Arched alley, and garden green to the gray wall
With crumbling crevice and the old wine--red flower,
Solitary in summer sun? for all
Poets Of Spirit
© Vyacheslav Ivanovich Ivanov
The snow is clothed in dawn
In the high desert,
We are oaths of Eternity
In the azure of Beauty.
Flying Leaves
© Frances Anne Kemble
Flying leaves the wild Spring scatters,
From the silver blossomed trees,
The House Of Dust: Part 03: 06:
© Conrad Aiken
Here is the roomwith ghostly walls dissolving
The twilight room in which she called you 'lover';
And the floorless room in which she called you 'friend.'
So many times, in doubt, she ran between them!
Through windy corridors of darkening end.
Midnight And Moonlight
© Roderic Quinn
AS one singled out from his fellows,
Enchanted I roam
Through night with its music and moonlight,
And sea-sheen and foam.
The Flying Dutchman
© James Russell Lowell
Don't believe in the Flying Dutchman?
I've known the fellow for years;
My button I've wrenched from his clutch, man:
I shudder whenever he nears!
The Princess And The Page
© Harriet Monroe
There is a legendyou have read it
Of a fair page whom evil spells
Held in deep sleep; and men of credit
Tried all in vain, the story tells,
Week after week, by night and noon,
To wake him from his sombre swoon.
To The Queen Of My Heart
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
Shall we roam, my love,
To the twilight grove,
When the moon is rising bright;
Without A Title
© Boris Pasternak
So aloof, so meek in your ways,
Now you're fire, you're pure combustion.
Only let me lock up your beauty
Deep, deep down in a poem's dungeon.
Prince Dorus
© Charles Lamb
He thank'd the Fairy for her kind advice.-
Thought he, "If this be all, I'll not be nice;
Rather than in my courtship I will fail,
I will to mince-meat tread Minon's black tail."
Lines Written At Night
© Frances Anne Kemble
Oh, thou surpassing beauty! that dost live
Shrined in yon silent stream of glorious light!
Spirit of harmony! that through the vast
And cloud-embroidered canopy, art spreading
The Borough. Letter VIII: Trades
© George Crabbe
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'Tis small: we boast not these rich subjects here,
Who hazard thrice ten thousand pounds a-year;
We've no huge buildings, where incessant noise
Is made by springs and spindles, girls and boys;
Where, 'mid such thundering sounds, the maiden's
The Bride Of Abydos
© George Gordon Byron
Know ye the land where cypress and myrtle
Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime,
Don Juan: Canto The Sixteenth
© George Gordon Byron
The antique Persians taught three useful things,
To draw the bow, to ride, and speak the truth.
The Angel Of The Sun
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
WHILE bending o'er my golden lyre,
While waving light my wing of fire ;
Creation's regions to explore,
To gaze, to wonder, to adore:
