Quotes About Beauty

To see her is a picture— To hear her is a tune— To know her an Intemperance As innocent as June— To know her not—Affliction— To own her for a Friend A warmth as near as if the Sun Were shining in your Hand.

I'll tell you how the sun rose, a ribbon at a time. The steeples swam in amethyst, The news like squirrels ran. The hills untied their bonnets, The bobolinks begun. Then I said softly to myself, That must have been the sun!

November always seemed to me the Norway of the year.

I hope you love birds too. It is economical. It saves going to heaven.

Inebriate of Air — am I — And Debauchee of Dew — Reeling — thro endless summer days — From Inns of Molten Blue —

To see the Summer Sky Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie— True Poems flee—

The only Commandment I ever obeyed — 'Consider the Lilies.

Her breast is fit for pearls, But I was not a Diver - Her brow is fit for thrones But I have not a crest, Her heart is fit for home- I- a Sparrow- build there Sweet of twigs and twine My perennial nest.

I SEE thee better in the dark, I do not need a light. The love of thee a prism be Excelling violet. I see thee better for the years That hunch themselves between, The miner's lamp sufficient be To nullify the mine. And in the grave I see thee best— Its little panels be A-glow, all ruddy with the light I held so high for thee! What need of day to those whose dark Hath so surpassing sun, It seem it be continually At the meridian?

Earth is crammed with Heaven.

Nature is what we know / Yet have not art to say / So impotent our wisdom is / To her simplicity.

Could you tell me how to grow--or is it unconveyed--like Melody--or Witchcraft?

Have you got a brook in your little heart, Where bashful flowers blow, And blushing birds go down to drink, And shadows tremble so?

Beauty crowds me till I die, Beauty, mercy have on me! But if I expire today, Let it be in sight of thee

They dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars, Like petals from a rose, When suddenly across the lune A wind with fingers goes. They perished in the seamless grass, No eye could find the place; But God on his repealless list Can summon every face

The Daisy follows soft the Sun— And when his golden walk is done— Sits shyly at his feet— He—waking—finds the flower there— Wherefore—Marauder—art thou here? Because, Sir, love is sweet! We are the flower—Thou the Sun! Forgive us, if as days decline— We nearer steal to thee! Enamored of the parting West— The peace—the flight—the Amethyst— Night's possibility!

You will forgive me, for I never visit. I am from the fields, you know, and while quite at home with the Dandelion, make but sorry figure in a Drawing -- room -- Did you ask me out with a bunch of Daisies, I should thank you, and accept --

Did the harebell loose her girdle To the lover bee, Would the bee the harebell hallow Much as formerly?

Whose fingers string the stalactite- Who counts the Wampum of the night

The Dark—felt beautiful—

There is another sky, Ever serene and fair, And there is another sunshine, Though it be darkness there; Never mind faded forests, Austin, Never mind silent fields - Here is a little forest, Whose leaf is ever green; Here is a brighter garden, Where not a frost has been; In its unfading flowers I hear the bright bee hum: Prithee, my brother, Into my garden come!

The career of flowers differs from ours only in inaudibleness. I feel more reverence as I grow for these mute creatures whose suspense or transport may surpass my own.

We all have moments with the dust, but the dew is given.

Earth is a merry damsel, and heaven a knight so true