Beauty poems
/ page 98 of 313 /Two Voices
© Edith Nesbit
COUNTRY
'SWEET are the lanes and the hedges, the fields made red with the clover,
Table Talk
© William Cowper
A. You told me, I remember, glory, built
On selfish principles, is shame and guilt;
Against Fruition
© Abraham Cowley
No; thou'rt a fool, I'll swear, if e'er thou grant;
Much of my veneration thou must want,
Herenowour age of socialism!...
© Boris Pasternak
Herenowour age of socialism!
Here in the thick of life below.
Today in the name of things to be
Into the future forth we go.
A Story Of Doom: Book III.
© Jean Ingelow
Above the head of great Methuselah
There lay two demons in the opened roof
Invisible, and gathered up his words;
For when the Elder prophesied, it came
About, that hidden things were shown to them,
And burdens that he spake against his time.
The Defence
© Henry King
Piensan los Enamorados
Que tienen los otros, los oios quebranta dos.
VVhy slightest thou what I approve?
Thou art no Peer to try my love,
The Wharf On ThamesSide; Winter Dawn
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Day begins cold and misty on soiled snow
That frost has ridged and crusted. Sound of steps
Comes, then a shape emerges from the mist
Without haste, trudging tracks the feet know well,
Le Flambeau Vivant (The Living Torch)
© Charles Baudelaire
Ils marchent devant moi, ces Yeux pleins de lumières,
Qu'un Ange très savant a sans doute aimantés
Ils marchent, ces divins frères qui sont mes frères,
Secouant dans mes yeux leurs feux diamantés.
To Frances S. Osgood
© Edgar Allan Poe
Thou wouldst be loved?--then let thy heart
From its present pathway part not;
Her Eyes Are Wild
© William Wordsworth
I
HER eyes are wild, her head is bare,
The sun has burnt her coal-black hair;
Her eyebrows have a rusty stain,
Sonnett - XXV
© James Russell Lowell
I grieve not that ripe Knowledge takes away
The charm that Nature to my childhood wore,
A Poem. Dedication of the Pittsfield Cemetery
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
The sun shall set, and heavens resplendent spheres
Gild the smooth turf unhallowed yet by tears,
But ah! how soon the evening stars will shed
Their sleepless light around the slumbering dead!
Krishna Awakes
© Sant Surdas
Clusters of lotuses burst into bloom
the bumblebees humming with sweet sound
leave the lotuses;
as though the devout renouncing worldly ties,
in your love drowned
chant your name as they go about.
Die Unbekannte
© Heinrich Heine
My golden-haired beauty,
Im always sure of seeing,
In the Tuileries Gardens,
Under the chestnut trees.
In Nineveh.
© Robert Crawford
As he of Joppa sought to 'scape
The utterance of the given word,
And dared to get him from the Lord
In a ship down to Tarshish, know
The Bonie Wee Thing
© Robert Burns
Wishfully I look and languish
In that bonie face o' thine,
And my heart it sounds wi' anguish,
Lest my wee thing be na mine.
The Last Banquet Of Antony And Cleopatra
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Thy foes had girt thee with their dead array,
O stately Alexandra! - yet the sound
Graves of the Confederate Dead
© Henry Timrod
I
Sleep sweetly in your humble graves,
Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause;
Though yet no marble column craves
The pilgrim here to pause.