What is lovely never dies,
But passes into other loveliness,
Star-dust, or sea-foam, flower or winged air.

What is lovely never dies,
But passes into other loveliness,
Star-dust, or sea-foam, flower or winged air.

Beauty is ten, nine of which is dressing.

Beauty is ten, nine of which is dressing.

The essence of all beauty, I call love,
The attribute, the evidence, and end,
The consummation to read more

The essence of all beauty, I call love,
The attribute, the evidence, and end,
The consummation to the inward sense
Of beauty apprehended from without,
I still call love.

Love is much like a wild rose, beautiful and calm, but willing to draw blood in its defense.

Love is much like a wild rose, beautiful and calm, but willing to draw blood in its defense.

Beauty and folly are old companions.

Beauty and folly are old companions.

Old as I am, for ladies' love unfit,
The power of beauty I remember yet,
Which once read more

Old as I am, for ladies' love unfit,
The power of beauty I remember yet,
Which once inflam'd my soul, and still inspires my wit.

On the beach at night,
Stands a child with her father,
Watching the east, the autumn sky.
Up read more

On the beach at night,
Stands a child with her father,
Watching the east, the autumn sky.
Up through the darkness,
While ravening clouds, the burial clouds, in black masses spreading,
Lower sullen and fast athwart and down the sky,
Amid a transparent clear belt of ether yet left in the east,
Ascends large and calm the lord-star Jupiter,
And nigh at hand, only a very little above,
Swim the delicate sisters the Pleiades.
From the beach the child holding the hand of her father,
Those burial-clouds that lower victorious soon to devour all,
Watching, silently weeps.
Weep not, child,
Weep not, my darling,
With these kisses let me remove your tears,
The ravening clouds shall not long be victorious,
They shall not long possess the sky, they devour the stars only in apparition,
Jupiter shall emerge, be patient, watch again another night,
the Pleiades shall emerge,
They are immortal, all those stars both silvery and golden shall shine out again,
The great stars and the little ones shall shine out again, they endure,
The vast immortal suns and the long-enduring pensive moons shall again shine.
Then dearest child mournest thou only for jupiter?
Considerest thou alone the burial of the stars?
Something there is, (With my lips soothing thee, adding I whisper,
I give thee the first suggestion, the problem and indirection,)
Something there is more immortal even than the stars,
(Many the burials, many the days and nights, passing away,)
Something that shall endure longer even than lustrous Jupiter
Longer than sun or any revolving satellite,
Or the radiant sisters the Pleiades.

Thou who hast
The fatal gist of beauty.

Thou who hast
The fatal gist of beauty.

Beauty is only skin deep, but ugly goes clean to the bone

Beauty is only skin deep, but ugly goes clean to the bone