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Say not of beauty she is good,
Or aught but beautiful,
Or sleek to doves' wings of the wood
Her wild wings of a gull.
Call her not wicked; that word's touch
Consumes her like a curse;
But love her not too much, too much,
For that is even worse.
O, she is neither good nor bad,
But innocent and wild!
Enshrine her and she dies, who had
The hard heart of a child.
Elinor Morton Wylie
Read poems about / on: beautiful, child, beauty, heart, love, children
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Click here to write your comments about this poem (Beauty by Elinor Morton Wylie)
Emily Pearl (7/30/2006 1:59:00 PM)
Well, with a name like Wylie/Wyllie, how could you go wrong, the strong the brave, the scottish wave-from me to you, ya stylish gurl, fined in pen, adored the swirl
Love- Duncan The Part Scot XXXXXXX |
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