Beauty Poems - Poems For Beauty

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A Thing Of Beauty (Endymion) - Poem by John Keats

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its lovliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkn'd ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
'Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.

Comments about A Thing Of Beauty (Endymion) by John Keats

  • Prabir Gayen 6/4/2020 12:59:00 PM

    A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
    Its lovliness increases; it will never
    Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
    A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
    Full of sweet dreams, and health
    Reply

    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Vidya Murali 5/14/2020 11:26:00 PM

    An endless fountain of immortal drink,
    Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.
    Beautiful lines....
    Reply

    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • kipec 12/15/2019 8:40:00 AM

    I am making $200 to $300per hour for doing online work from home. I kept hearing other people tell me how much money they can make online so I decided to look into it. Well, it was all true and has totally changed my life.if you interested...Go to this link, fill out a basic online form and hit submit at, Home Profit System And Follow The instructions as Home Profit System And Set Up your AcCount..GOOD LUCK★★
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  • kipec 12/15/2019 8:39:00 AM

    I am making $200 to $300per hour for doing online work from home. I kept hearing other people tell me how much money they can make online so I decided to look into it. Well, it was all true and has totally changed my life.if you interested...Go to this link, fill out a basic online form and hit submit at, Home Profit System And Follow The instructions as Home Profit System And Set Up your AcCount..GOOD LUCK★★
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  • Olorode olorunleke 11/25/2019 2:50:00 PM

    I love this poem. The poet has done a great job. Thanks for sharing. I will be glad everyone read my poems especially hear me and drop your views (criticism is of added advantage) Reply

    4 person liked.
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  • Kagog Kagog 9/25/2019 8:11:00 AM

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    My ­n­e­i­g­h­b­or's ­m­ot­h­er ­m­A­k­es $64 ­h­our­ly ­o­n t­h­e ­l­A­pt­o­p. S­h­e ­h­As ­b­e­e­n ­out ­o­f w­or­k ­f­or ­f­iv­e ­m­o­nt­hs ­but ­l­Ast ­m­o­nt­h ­h­er ­p­Ay­m­e­nt w­As $15080 just w­or­k­i­n­g ­o­n t­h­e l­A­pt­o­p ­f­or ­A ­f­ew ­h­ours. ­g­o t­o t­h­is w­e­b s­it­e ­A­n­d r­e­A­d ­m­or­e ­g­o t­o t­h­is s­it­e ­h­o­m­e t­A­b ­f­or ­m­or­e ­d­et­A­i­l............HERE======►► www.more.cash61.com ★★★COPY THIS SITE★★★ Reply

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  • Florence 8/23/2019 1:09:00 AM

    Keats' perception of reality is soft, and again so visually precise as well as sensual. Reply

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  • Rose Morales 8/22/2019 6:26:00 AM

    Wow nice Reply

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  • Ratnakar Mandlik 8/14/2019 4:26:00 AM

    " A thing of beauty is a joy forever,
    An endless fountain of immortal drink
    Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink" .
    Great poem, a pleasure to read.
    Reply

    3 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
Read all 159 comments »
Beauty Poems
  1. 1. A Thing Of Beauty (Endymion)
    John Keats
  2. 2. Beauty Xxv
    Khalil Gibran
  3. 3. Before The Throne Of Beauty Xxvi
    Khalil Gibran
  4. 4. Rondel Of Merciless Beauty
    Geoffrey Chaucer
  5. 5. Briar Rose (Sleeping Beauty)
    Anne Sexton
  6. 6. The Beauty Of Death Xiv
    Khalil Gibran
  7. 7. I Died For Beauty
    Emily Dickinson
  8. 8. Beauty
    Wilfred Owen
  9. 9. Beauty And Beauty
    Rupert Brooke
  10. 10. Beauty
    Edward Thomas
  11. 11. Pied Beauty
    Gerard Manley Hopkins
  12. 12. Youth And Beauty
    William Carlos Williams
  13. 13. Ballade Of My Lady's Beauty
    Joyce Kilmer
  14. 14. O Beauty, Passing Beauty!
    Alfred Lord Tennyson
  15. 15. Beauty, Time, And Love
    Samuel Daniel
  16. 16. My Idea Of Beauty
    Nitya Pillai
  17. 17. Hymn To Intellectual Beauty
    Percy Bysshe Shelley
  18. 18. He Remembers Forgotten Beauty
    William Butler Yeats
  19. 19. Beauty&Mdash;Be Not Caused&Mdash;It Is
    Emily Dickinson
  20. 20. Beauty: [notes For An Unfinished Poem]
    Wilfred Owen
  21. 21. Ode To Beauty
    Ralph Waldo Emerson
  22. 22. I Died For Beauty But Was Scarce
    Emily Dickinson
  23. 23. He Tells Of The Perfect Beauty
    William Butler Yeats
  24. 24. Beauty
    Elinor Morton Wylie
  25. 25. Beauty, Inside And Out
    Camacy Melville
  26. 26. Soul's Beauty
    Dante Gabriel Rossetti
  27. 27. Amoretti Iii: The Sovereign Beauty
    Edmund Spenser
  28. 28. A Hymn In Honour Of Beauty
    Edmund Spenser
  29. 29. Genius In Beauty
    Dante Gabriel Rossetti
  30. 30. To What Serves Mortal Beauty?
    Gerard Manley Hopkins
  31. 31. Beauty
    sakshi mathur
  32. 32. A Hymn Of Heavenly Beauty
    Edmund Spenser
  33. 33. Clothed In Beauty
    Vyacheslav Ivanovich Ivanov
  34. 34. On The Conduct Of The World Seeking Beau..
    Allen Ginsberg
  35. 35. Seeking Beauty
    William Henry Davies
  36. 36. Sonnet 54: O, How Much More Doth Beauty ..
    William Shakespeare
  37. 37. An Hymn In Honour Of Beauty
    Edmund Spenser
  38. 38. The Song Of Princess Zeb-Un-Nissa In Pra..
    Sarojini Naidu
  39. 39. Beauty Imposes
    John Shaw Neilson
  40. 40. ! The Eye Of Beauty
    Michael Shepherd
  41. 41. An Hymn Of Heavenly Beauty
    Edmund Spenser
  42. 42. God Scatters Beauty
    Walter Savage Landor
  43. 43. Sonnet Iv: Bright Star Of Beauty
    Michael Drayton
  44. 44. Beauty
    Nancy Amato
  45. 45. Beauty
    Edwina Matthews
  46. 46. For Beauty I Am Not A Star
    Woodrow Wilson
  47. 47. The Living Beauty
    William Butler Yeats
  48. 48. A Sonnet To Heavenly Beauty
    Joachim du Bellay
  49. 49. Bad Day At The Beauty Salon
    Maggie Estep
  50. 50. A Philosophy Of Beauty
    Uriah Hamilton

New Beauty Poems

  1. Beauty....(2), Sylvia Frances Chan
  2. Beauty Is Upon You... (Short Version), Denis Martindale
  3. Beauty In My Mind, Wilbur Motholo
  4. Sweet Venom, Uche Nwanze
  5. Love Is The Beauty Of Life! And Beauty I.., Joshua Aaron Guillory
  6. Cherish Beauty For Good!, Ramesh T A
  7. Beauty Is On, Kumarmani Mahakul
  8. Magnificent, Aminat Opatola
  9. Effect Of Love Of A Beauty Is Romance In.., Ramesh T A
  10. True Beauty, Qiniso Mogale

Beauty Poems

  1. Rondel Of Merciless Beauty

    Your two great eyes will slay me suddenly; Their beauty shakes me who was once serene; Straight through my heart the wound is quick and keen. Only your word will heal the injury To my hurt heart, while yet the wound is clean - Your two great eyes will slay me suddenly; Their beauty shakes me who was once serene. Upon my word, I tell you faithfully Through life and after death you are my queen; For with my death the whole truth shall be seen. Your two great eyes will slay me suddenly; Their beauty shakes me who was once serene; Straight through my heart the wound is quick and keen.

  2. Beauty Xxv

    And a poet said, 'Speak to us of Beauty.' Where shall you seek beauty, and how shall you find her unless she herself be your way and your guide? And how shall you speak of her except she be the weaver of your speech? The aggrieved and the injured say, 'Beauty is kind and gentle. Like a young mother half-shy of her own glory she walks among us.' And the passionate say, 'Nay, beauty is a thing of might and dread. Like the tempest she shakes the earth beneath us and the sky above us.' The tired and the weary say, 'beauty is of soft whisperings. She speaks in our spirit. Her voice yields to our silences like a faint light that quivers in fear of the shadow.' But the restless say, 'We have heard her shouting among the mountains, And with her cries came the sound of hoofs, and the beating of wings and the roaring of lions.' At night the watchmen of the city say, 'Beauty shall rise with the dawn from the east.' And at noontide the toilers and the wayfarers say, 'we have seen her leaning over the earth from the windows of the sunset.' In winter say the snow-bound, 'She shall come with the spring leaping upon the hills.' And in the summer heat the reapers say, 'We have seen her dancing with the autumn leaves, and we saw a drift of snow in her hair.' All these things have you said of beauty. Yet in truth you spoke not of her but of needs unsatisfied, And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy. It is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth, But rather a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted. It is not the image you would see nor the song you would hear, But rather an image you see though you close your eyes and a song you hear though you shut your ears. It is not the sap within the furrowed bark, nor a wing attached to a claw, But rather a garden forever in bloom and a flock of angels for ever in flight. People of Orphalese, beauty is life when life unveils her holy face. But you are life and you are the veil. Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror. But you are eternity and you are the mirror.

  3. Before The Throne Of Beauty Xxvi

    One heavy day I ran away from the grim face of society and the dizzying clamor of the city and directed my weary step to the spacious alley. I pursued the beckoning course of the rivulet and the musical sounds of the birds until I reached a lonely spot where the flowing branches of the trees prevented the sun from the touching the earth. I stood there, and it was entertaining to my soul - my thirsty soul who had seen naught but the mirage of life instead of its sweetness. I was engrossed deeply in thought and my spirits were sailing the firmament when a hour, wearing a sprig of grapevine that covered part of her naked body, and a wreath of poppies about her golden hair, suddenly appeared to me. As she she realized my astonishment, she greeted me saying, 'Fear me not; I am the Nymph of the Jungle.' 'How can beauty like yours be committed to live in this place? Please tell me who your are, and whence you come? ' I asked. She sat gracefully on the green grass and responded, 'I am the symbol of nature! I am the ever virgin your forefathers worshipped, and to my honor they erected shrines and temples at Baalbek and Jbeil.' And I dared say, 'But those temples and shrines were laid waste and the bones of my adoring ancestors became a part of the earth; nothing was left to commemorate their goddess save a pitiful few and the forgotten pages in the book of history.' She replied, 'Some goddesses live in the lives of their worshippers and die in their deaths, while some live an eternal and infinite life. My life is sustained by the world of beauty which you will see where ever you rest your eyes, and this beauty is nature itself; it is the beginning of the shepherds joy among the hills, and a villagers happiness in the fields, and the pleasure of the awe filled tribes between the mountains and the plains. This Beauty promotes the wise into the throne the truth.' Then I said, 'Beauty is a terrible power! ' And she retorted, 'Human beings fear all things, even yourselves. You fear heaven, the source of spiritual peace; you fear nature, the haven of rest and tranquility; you fear the God of goodness and accuse him of anger, while he is full of love and mercy.' After a deep silence, mingled with sweet dreams, I asked, 'Speak to me of that beauty which the people interpret and define, each one according to his own conception; I have seen her honored and worshipped in different ways and manners.' She answered, 'Beauty is that which attracts your soul, and that which loves to give and not to receive. When you meet Beauty, you feel that the hands deep within your inner self are stretched forth to bring her into the domain of your heart. It is the magnificence combined of sorrow and joy; it is the Unseen which you see, and the Vague which you understand, and the Mute which you hear - it is the Holy of Holies that begins in yourself and ends vastly beyond your earthly imagination.' Then the Nymph of the Jungle approached me and laid her scented hands upon my eyes. And as she withdrew, I found me alone in the valley. When I returned to the city, whose turbulence no longer vexed me, I repeated her words: 'Beauty is that which attracts your soul, and that which loves to give and not to receive.'

  4. Briar Rose (Sleeping Beauty)

    Consider a girl who keeps slipping off, arms limp as old carrots, into the hypnotist's trance, into a spirit world speaking with the gift of tongues. She is stuck in the time machine, suddenly two years old sucking her thumb, as inward as a snail, learning to talk again. She's on a voyage. She is swimming further and further back, up like a salmon, struggling into her mother's pocketbook. Little doll child, come here to Papa. Sit on my knee. I have kisses for the back of your neck. A penny for your thoughts, Princess. I will hunt them like an emerald. Come be my snooky and I will give you a root. That kind of voyage, rank as a honeysuckle. Once a king had a christening for his daughter Briar Rose and because he had only twelve gold plates he asked only twelve fairies to the grand event. The thirteenth fairy, her fingers as long and thing as straws, her eyes burnt by cigarettes, her uterus an empty teacup, arrived with an evil gift. She made this prophecy: The princess shall prick herself on a spinning wheel in her fifteenth year and then fall down dead. Kaputt! The court fell silent. The king looked like Munch's Scream Fairies' prophecies, in times like those, held water. However the twelfth fairy had a certain kind of eraser and thus she mitigated the curse changing that death into a hundred-year sleep. The king ordered every spinning wheel exterminated and exorcised. Briar Rose grew to be a goddess and each night the king bit the hem of her gown to keep her safe. He fastened the moon up with a safety pin to give her perpetual light He forced every male in the court to scour his tongue with Bab-o lest they poison the air she dwelt in. Thus she dwelt in his odor. Rank as honeysuckle. On her fifteenth birthday she pricked her finger on a charred spinning wheel and the clocks stopped. Yes indeed. She went to sleep. The king and queen went to sleep, the courtiers, the flies on the wall. The fire in the hearth grew still and the roast meat stopped crackling. The trees turned into metal and the dog became china. They all lay in a trance, each a catatonic stuck in a time machine. Even the frogs were zombies. Only a bunch of briar roses grew forming a great wall of tacks around the castle. Many princes tried to get through the brambles for they had heard much of Briar Rose but they had not scoured their tongues so they were held by the thorns and thus were crucified. In due time a hundred years passed and a prince got through. The briars parted as if for Moses and the prince found the tableau intact. He kissed Briar Rose and she woke up crying: Daddy! Daddy! Presto! She's out of prison! She married the prince and all went well except for the fear - the fear of sleep. Briar Rose was an insomniac... She could not nap or lie in sleep without the court chemist mixing her some knock-out drops and never in the prince's presence. If if is to come, she said, sleep must take me unawares while I am laughing or dancing so that I do not know that brutal place where I lie down with cattle prods, the hole in my cheek open. Further, I must not dream for when I do I see the table set and a faltering crone at my place, her eyes burnt by cigarettes as she eats betrayal like a slice of meat. I must not sleep for while I'm asleep I'm ninety and think I'm dying. Death rattles in my throat like a marble. I wear tubes like earrings. I lie as still as a bar of iron. You can stick a needle through my kneecap and I won't flinch. I'm all shot up with Novocain. This trance girl is yours to do with. You could lay her in a grave, an awful package, and shovel dirt on her face and she'd never call back: Hello there! But if you kissed her on the mouth her eyes would spring open and she'd call out: Daddy! Daddy! Presto! She's out of prison. There was a theft. That much I am told. I was abandoned. That much I know. I was forced backward. I was forced forward. I was passed hand to hand like a bowl of fruit. Each night I am nailed into place and forget who I am. Daddy? That's another kind of prison. It's not the prince at all, but my father drunkeningly bends over my bed, circling the abyss like a shark, my father thick upon me like some sleeping jellyfish. What voyage is this, little girl? This coming out of prison? God help - this life after death?