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Beauty is whatever gives joy.
Beauty is whatever gives joy.
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.
There's nothing that allays an angry mind
So soon as a sweet beauty.
There's nothing that allays an angry mind
So soon as a sweet beauty.
In every man's heart there is a secret nerve that answers to the vibrations of beauty.
In every man's heart there is a secret nerve that answers to the vibrations of beauty.
Love of beauty is Taste. The creation of beauty is Art.
Love of beauty is Taste. The creation of beauty is Art.
I have read in Plato and Cicero sayings that are wise and very beautiful; but I have never read in read more
I have read in Plato and Cicero sayings that are wise and very beautiful; but I have never read in either of them: Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden.
She's beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd She is a woman, therefore to be won
She's beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd She is a woman, therefore to be won
Beauty soon grows familiar to the lover,
Fades in his eye, and palls upon the sense.
Beauty soon grows familiar to the lover,
Fades in his eye, and palls upon the sense.
You don't have to be born beautiful to be wildly attractive.
You don't have to be born beautiful to be wildly attractive.
