I cannot live with Beauty out of mind.
I search for her and desire her all the day;
Beauty, the choicest treasure you may find,
Most joyous and sweetest word his lips can say.
The crowded heart in me is quick with visions
And sweetest music born of a brighter day.
But though the trees have long since lost their green
And I, the exile, can but dream of things
Grown magic in the mind; I watch the sheen
Of frost, and hear the song Orion sings.
Yet O, the star-born passion of Beethoven,
Man's consolation sung on the quivering strings.
Beauty immortal, not to be hid, desire
Of all men, each in his fashion, give me the strong
Thirst past satisfaction for thee, and fire
Not to be quenched . . . . O lift me, bear me along,
Touch me, make me worthy that men may seek me
For Beauty, Mistress Immortal, Healer of Wrong
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Beauty by Ivor Gurney )
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
- Final Page, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Hermit, Neela Nath
- Drink Me In, Susan Lacovara
- Rainbowing, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- To stop myself from; running to you, Mark Heathcote
- Legitimate Company Goes Boom Bust Dust, Terence G. Craddock
- With least humanity, hasmukh amathalal
- Precisely In Love, Edgar Andrade Baguio
- Small Investors Naive Get Burned, Terence G. Craddock
- Ssshhh-e Does It!, Edgar Andrade Baguio