Beauty is everywhere, but how often do we truly stop to appreciate it?
Here are 10 stunning poems that celebrate the beauty of life in ways that will touch your heart.
These poems invite you to pause, reflect, and revel in the poetic beauty that surrounds us every day.
Let’s get to these 10 breathtaking poems that capture the beauty of life and love!
My favorite poem about beauty
#1 “Beauty” by Willis
Beauty gives
The features perfectness, and to the form
Its delicate proportions: she may stain
The eye with a celestial blue, the cheek
With carmine of the sunset; she may breathe
Grace into every motion, like the play
Of the least visible tissue of a cloud;
She may give all that’s rich—her own
Bright cestus—and one glance of Intellect,
Like stronger magic, will outshine it all.
9 more poems about beauty
#2 “Beauty” by John Masefield
I have seen dawn and sunset on moors and windy hills
Coming in solemn beauty like slow old tunes of Spain:
I have seen the lady April bringing the daffodils,
Bringing the springing grass and the soft warm April rain.
I have heard the song of the blossoms and the old chant of the sea,
And seen strange lands from under the arched white sails of ships;
But the loveliest thing of beauty God ever has shown to me,
Are her voice, and her hair, and eyes, and the dear red curve of her lips.
#3 “To Helen” by Edgar Allan Poe
Helen, thy beauty is to me
Like those Nicean barks of yore,
That gently, o’er a perfumed sea,
The weary, wayworn wanderer bore
To his own native shore.
On desperate seas long wont to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
To the glory that was Greece
And the grandeur that was Rome.
Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche
How statue-like I see thee stand,
The agate lamp within thy hand!
Ah, Psyche, from the regions which
Are Holy Land!
#4 “A Sleeping Beauty” by Samuel Rogers
Sleep on, and dream of Heaven awhile!
Though shut so close thy laughing eyes,
Thy rosy lips still wear a smile,
And move and breathe delicious sighs.
Ah! now soft blushes tinge her cheeks
And mantle o’er her neck of snow;
Ah! now she murmurs, now she speaks,
What most I wish, and fear to know.
She starts, she trembles, and she weeps,
Her fair hands folded on her breast;
And now, how like a saint she sleeps,
A seraph in the realms of rest!
#5 From “The Belle Of The Ball” by Winthrop Mackworth Praed
Years, years ago, ere yet my dreams
Had been of being wise and witty,
Ere I had done with writing themes,
Or yawn’d o’er this infernal Chitty;
Years, years ago, while all my joy
Was in my fowling-piece and filly:
In short, while I was yet a boy,
I fell in love with Laura Lily.
I saw her at the county ball;
There, when the sounds of flute and fiddle
Gave signal sweet in that old hall
Of hands across and down the middle,
Hers was the subtlest spell by far
Of all that set young hearts romancing:
She was our queen, our rose, our star;
And when she danced, O Heaven, her dancing!
Dark was her hair, her hand was white;
Her voice was exquisitely tender,
Her eyes were full of liquid light;
I never saw a waist so slender;
Her every look, her every smile,
Shot right and left a score of arrows;
I thought ’twas Venus from her isle,
And wonder’d where she’d left her sparrows.
#6 “Maiden Beauty” by Charles Swain
Her hand’s like a lily, –
But just at the tip
It hath stolen a tint
Like the hue of her lip!
Her breath’s like the morning,
When hyacinths blow;
Her feet leave a blessing
Wherever they go!
For each one she’s something
To comfort or cheer;
When her purse fails her wishes,
She gives them a tear!
E’en the sound of her step
Seems to bring them relief;
And they bless that sweet face
Which speaks hope ‘mid their grief!
Her mouth’s like a rose-bud,
Just budding half through,
When it opens at morn
Amidst fragrance and dew;
And her heart is a dwelling
Where angels might rest,
And forget their own heaven
In that of her breast!
#7 “She Walks in Beauty” by George Gordon Byron
I.
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
II.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.
III.
And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
#8 “Expression and Beauty” by Charles Swain
It was one of those faces, so gifted with graces,
Such sweetness of thought, such expression was in it;
Your eyes were enchanted, as if from their places—
Your heart—if you had one—was gone in a minute.
Yet it was not that Beauty reigned paramount there,
That the lip and the cheek were to magic allied,
‘Twas a softness of feature, so winningly fair,
Expression seemed worth every beauty beside!
I care not for clever, vain creatures, that ever
Are dreaming ofconquests, and captives o’erthrown;
His heart is not lost, though awhile he may sever,
Who gets, in exchange, a good heart for his own!—
And sweet is the feeling, delicious the duty,
When hearts beat the same till existence is run ;
For, oh! by Expression—as often as Beauty–
The soul ofthe Lover—the Husband—is won!
#9 “She Was A Phantom Of Delight” by William Wordsworth
She was a Phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight;
A lovely Apparition, sent
To be a moment’s ornament;
Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair;
Like Twilight’s, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful Dawn;
A dancing Shape, an Image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.
I saw her upon nearer view,
A Spirit, yet a Woman too!
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin-liberty;
A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A Creature not too bright or good
For human nature’s daily food;
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A Being breathing thoughtful breath,
A Traveller between life and death;
The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
A perfect Woman, nobly planned,
To warn, to comfort, and command;
And yet a Spirit still, and bright
With something of angelic light.
#10 “A Vision of Beauty” by Ben Jonson
It was a beauty that I saw,—
So pure, so perfect, as the frame
Of all the universe were lame
To that one figure, could I draw,
Or give least line of it a law:
A skein of silk without a knot!
A fair march made without a halt!
A curious form without a fault!
A printed book without a blot!
All beauty!—and without a spot.