Elinor Morton Wylie
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.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Beauty by Elinor Morton Wylie )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- For Your Family Pride, Are You Going To .., Bijay Kant Dubey
- The Tears of A Woman, Who Can Underatnd .., Bijay Kant Dubey
- Love Is A Groovy Thing, Electric Lady
- I Think, tallulah montegue
- Fill Free, Teye Wayoe Ebenezer
- The Unabridged Treaty, Bazi alis Subrata Ray
- Fron(t) s, Leylek D. Sovura
- Ode to the Old and Tired, tallulah montegue
- What Sort of Judges Are They Who Conside.., Bijay Kant Dubey
- Morning Kiss, Matt Mooney