Beauty poems
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The Nomades
© James Russell Lowell
What Nature makes in any mood
To me is warranted for good,
Though long before I learned to see
She did not set us moral theses,
And scorned to have her sweet caprices
Strait-waistcoated in you or me.
Maternal Hope
© Thomas Campbell
Lo! at the couch where infant beauty sleeps,
Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps:
Boats In A Fog
© Robinson Jeffers
Sports and gallantries, the stage, the arts, the antics of dancers,
The exuberant voices of music,
The Sunbeam
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Thou art no lingerer in monarch's hall,
A joy thou art, and a wealth to all!
A bearer of hope unto land and sea:â
Sunbeam! what gift hath the world like thee?
To The River
© Edgar Allan Poe
Fair river! in thy bright, clear flow
Of crystal, wandering water,
Thou art an emblem of the glow
Of beauty- the unhidden heart-
The playful maziness of art
In old Alberto's daughter;
"`Roses crimson, roses white"
© Alfred Austin
`Every wall is white with roses
`Every wall is white with roses,
Linnets pair in every tree;
Brim your beakers, twine your posies,
Kiss and quaff ere Springtime closes;
Bloom and beauty quickly flee.'
Hunger
© Arthur Rimbaud
Beneath the bush a wolf will howl, Spitting bright feathers
From his feast of fowl: Like him, I devour myself.
Waiting to be gathered, Fruits and grasses spend their hours;
The spider spinning in the hedge, Eats only flowers.
Let me sleep! Let me boil, On the altars of Solomon;
Let me soak the rusty soil, And flow into Kendron.
When Ore My Temples Balmy Vapours Rise
© Thomas Parnell
When ore my temples balmy vapours rise
Whose soft suffusion dims the sinking eyes
A Dialogue At Fiesole
© Alfred Austin
HE.
Halt here awhile. That mossy-cushioned seat
Is for your queenliness a natural throne;
As I am fitly couched on this low sward,
Here at your feet.
Charles VII And Joan Of Arc At Rheims
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
A glorious pageant filled the church of the proud old city of Rheims,
One such as poet artists choose to form their loftiest themes:
There France beheld her proudest sons grouped in a glittering ring,
To place the crown upon the brow of their now triumphant king.
The First Fan
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
WHEN rose the cry "Great Pan is dead!"
And Jove's high palace closed its portal,
The fallen gods, before they fled,
Sold out their frippery to a mortal.
Song: Tis Not the Beam
© Joseph Rodman Drake
'Tis not the beam of her bright blue eye,
Nor the smile of her lip of rosy dye,
Ballade 1
© Eustache Deschamps
The stag was very proud of his swiftness,
Of running ten miles in one breath,
Accolon Of Gaul: Part II
© Madison Julius Cawein
"She comes! her presence, like a moving song
Breathed soft of loveliest lips and lute-like tongue,
Sways all the gurgling forests from their rest:
I fancy where her rustling foot is pressed,
So faltering, love seems timid, but how strong
That darling love that flutters in her breast!
To His Worthy Friend Doctor Witty Upon His Translation Of T
© Andrew Marvell
Sit further, and make room for thine own fame,
Where just desert enrolles thy honour'd Name
The good Interpreter. Some in this task
Take of the Cypress vail, but leave a mask,
Two Easter Stanzas
© Vachel Lindsay
Though better men may fear that trumpets warning,
I meet you, lady, on the Judgment morning,
With golden hope my spirit still adorning.
So they begin. With two years gone...
© Boris Pasternak
So they begin. With two years gone
From nurse to countless tunes they scuttle.
They chirp and whistle. Then comes on
The third year, and they start to prattle.
A Friend
© Lionel Pigot Johnson
All, that he came to give,
He gave, and went again:
I have seen one man live,
I have seen one man reign,
With all the graces in his train.
Vignettes Overseas
© Sara Teasdale
I. Off Gilbatrar
BEYOND the sleepy hills of Spain,
The sun goes down in yellow mist,
The sky is fresh with dewy stars
