Beauty poems
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Rotten Row
© Frederick Locker Lampson
I hope I'm fond of much that's good, As well as much that's gay;I'd like the country if I could; I love the Park in May:And when I ride in Rotten Row,I wonder why they call'd it so.
Endymion
© John Keats
BOOK IIts loveliness increases; it will neverPass into nothingness; but still will keepA bower quiet for us, and a sleepFull of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing
Yozgad IV: How like an ocean is existence here
© Julius Stanley de Vere Alexander
Yozgad is situated in a remote and high valley of the Anatolian tableland
The Poem of a Prisoner of War, 1917
© Julius Stanley de Vere Alexander
I have been one of the fortunate ones of the Earth,Having gazed upon Beauty and Truth all my days,And I had no need to think or to write concerning them,But when Beauty and Truth were withdrawn from meI found I could no longer live without them,But I was obliged to keep them ever by my side,I therefore wrote of them, and to write I thought of them,And by thinking kept them with me and they stayed
Epigrams: Epitaph on Elizabeth, L. H.
© Benjamin Jonson
Wouldst thou hear what man can sayIn a little? Reader, stay
Shadow River: Muskoka
© Emily Pauline Johnson
A stream of tender gladness,Of filmy sun, and opal tinted skies ;Of warm midsummer air that lightly liesIn mystic rings,Where softly swingsThe music of a thousand wingsThat almost tones to sadness.
Flint and Feather
© Emily Pauline Johnson
Ojistoh1.2Of him whose name breathes bravery and life1.3And courage to the tribe that calls him chief.1.4I am Ojistoh, his white star, and he1.5Is land, and lake, and sky--and soul to me.
The Last Gift
© Hyde Robin
I have taken so much of your beauty, oh deep kind Earth,Face on your soft old face, heart on your warm heart lying --Scent of rain in leaves and the small stream's bubble of mirth,Hush of the sad-eyed pool that is dark with night-birds' crying,
Stars drowned deep in the lake, sunset's flame in a pine,Secret clutching fingers of baby ferns, close-curled --These are a stain of scent from a cool old perfumed wineThat sleeps in a carven chalice blue-glazed in the dawn of the world
In Darkness
© Hyde Robin
Lying awake in the darkI have suddenly thought(At the clasp of unseen fingers under my head),"God is no moreThan any apple-bough, then,Where the birds of the air have nest --Than the little, hardly-soughtHome of the field-mouse, high in the tawny grain,Where the spoiler looks in vain;Than the lowly earthen doorWhere the vixen runs to hide, as the bold hunt passesIn flurry of blood-red music and blood-crazed men;Than the bending meadow grassesUnder the breast of the lark
Half Moon
© Hyde Robin
The little pools of starlight splashAgainst the poplars' slender lines;The moon is like a golden comb,Caught in the tresses of the pines.
Three Kings of Orient
© Hopkins Jr. John Henry
We Three Kings of Orient are,Bearing gifts we traverse afar, Field and fountain, Moor and mountain,Following yonder Star.
Before Action
© Hodgson William Noel
By all the glories of the day,And the cool evening's benison:By the last sunset touch that layUpon the hills when day was done:By beauty lavishly outpoured,And blessings carelessly received,By all the days that I have lived,Make me a soldier, Lord
The Choice
© Hinkson Katharine Tynan
When skies are blue and days are brightA kitchen-garden's my delight,Set round with rows of decent boxAnd blowsy girls of hollyhocks.
Lines and Figures
© Charles Harpur
There is no curve of sea or sky,No turn of hill-top far defined,Without some fitness for the eye,Some meaning for the mind.
Radiolatry
© Guiterman Arthur
The worst of all idolators Are zealous radiolatersWho wreck the peace of erstwhile happy homes With drool of variometers, Detectors, galvanometers,Antennae, switches, batteries and ohms.
