Damask rose
Damask rose how fair your beauty holds the light
How fair your fragrance subdues the fears of night
and how fair your lowly crimson-head
Is with gallantry and passion fed.
In Midnight-oils in sunlit soils
Not a fairer beauty be;
Oh damask rose in flaming clothes
What more beauty could there be...
But in man's hand a maiden fair
with hazelnut brown hair
And roving-limbs that exult like hymns
The answer to a prayer...
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Fair Rose
Fair rose, fair rose, so sweet and soft,
Just as the skin of a new born babe,
Thy beauty grows as day goes by,
The danger wakes in thy razor thorns.
How, oh how can a creature so beauteous,
Hold such dire treacherousness?
Thou hast drawn me in so close,
Just outside thy painful touch,
When desire outgrows sense,
And thy thorn doth bring red stain.
Fair rose, fair rose, so sweet and soft,
How can thy beauty hold such great pain?
poem by Joseph Cross
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Amoretti LXXIX: Men Call you Fair
Men call you fair, and you do credit it,
For that your self ye daily such do see:
But the true fair, that is the gentle wit,
And vertuous mind, is much more prais'd of me.
For all the rest, how ever fair it be,
Shall turn to naught and lose that glorious hue:
But only that is permanent and free
From frail corruption, that doth flesh ensue.
That is true beauty: that doth argue you
To be divine, and born of heavenly seed:
Deriv'd from that fair Spirit, from whom all true
And perfect beauty did at first proceed.
He only fair, and what he fair hath made,
All other fair, like flowers untimely fade.
poem by Edmund Spenser
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To His Sleeping Mistress
Oh, fair sweet face! oh, eyes, celestial bright,
Twin stars in heaven, that now adorn the night!
Oh, fruitful lips, where cherries ever grow,
And damask cheeks, where all sweet beauties blow!
Oh, thou, from head to foot divinely fair!
Cupid's most cunning net's made of that hair;
And, as he weaves himself for curious eyes,
'Oh me, oh me, I'm caught myself!' he cries:
Sweet rest about thee, sweet and golden sleep,
Soft peaceful thoughts, your hourly watches keep,
Whilst I in wonder sing this sacrifice,
To beauty sacred, and those angel eyes!
poem by John Fletcher
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The Song Unknown
It was many a day and many a night
A windswept night ago
When over the tempest-tossed sea rose and swelled
A terrible cry of woe
And one maiden fair sat straight up in her bed
And wept for she knew her lover was dead
It was many a day and many a night
Many a night ago
It was many a day and many a night
A windtorn night ago
When over the balmy sea rose and swelled
A song of mourning low
And one maiden fair wept long and wept loud
For she knew it was her lover who was wrapped in that shroud
It was many a day and many a night
Many a night ago
It was many a day and many a night
A windswept night ago
When over the rolling sea rose and died
A song we shall never know
It is sung by the maiden fair and the stars shining brightly
And her lover who lies in the depths of the sea
It was many a day and many a night
Many a night ago.
poem by Rebecca Walker
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My Fair Silver Maiden
Oh my fair silver maiden
I see your eyes in the stars that light the dark,
Your hair in the swaying summer grass,
Your smile in the majestic sunrise
Oh my fair silver maiden
Your scent is always on the next wind
Your sweet, intoxicating scent.
Oh my fair silver maiden
Tell me where you are
So that I might find you
And my heart be complete.
Oh my fair silver maiden
How I long for you
How I cry for you
How I search for you.
Oh my fair silver maiden
Always beyond the next wind.
Tell me where you are
So that I might find you
And my heart be complete.
Oh my fair silver maiden.
poem by Cameron Bird
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Beauty is an energy
Is being fair a beauty?
Is she a beauty, who has fair skin,
Youth or virgininity?
There are beauties, of gray,
Ill cut, ripe and mothers.
Beauty is an energy exuding.
28.05.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Roundel
She's passing fair; but so demure is she,
So quiet is her gown, so smooth her hair,
That few there are who note her and agree
She's passing fair.
Yet when was ever beauty held more rare
Than simple heart and maiden modesty?
What fostered charms with virtue could compare?
Alas, no lover ever stops to see;
The best that she is offered is the air.
Yet- if the passing mark is minus D-
She's passing fair.
poem by Dorothy Parker
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Samela
LIKE to Diana in her summer weed,
Girt with a crimson robe of brightest dye,
Goes fair Samela.
Whiter than be the flocks that straggling feed
When wash'd by Arethusa faint they lie,
Is fair Samela.
As fair Aurora in her morning grey,
Deck'd with the ruddy glister of her love
Is fair Samela;
Like lovely Thetis on a calmed day
Whenas her brightness Neptune's fancy move,
Shines fair Samela.
Her tresses gold, her eyes like glassy streams,
Her teeth are pearl, the breasts are ivory
Of fair Samela;
Her cheeks like rose and lily yield forth gleams;
Her brows bright arches framed of ebony.
Thus fair Samela
Passeth fair Venus in her bravest hue,
And Juno in the show of majesty
(For she 's Samela!),
Pallas in wit,--all three, if you well view,
For beauty, wit, and matchless dignity,
Yield to Samela.
poem by Robert Greene
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Bridal Eve
GOOD-NIGHT, my Heart, my Heart, good-night--
Oh, good and dear and fair,
With lips of life and eyes of light
And roses in your hair.
To-morrow brings the other crown,
The orange blossoms, Sweet,
And then the rose will be cast down
With lilies at your feet.
But in your soul a garden stands
Where fair the white rose blows--
God, teach my foolish clumsy hands
The way to tend my rose.
That in the white-rose garden still
The lily may bloom fair
God help my heart and soul and will
To keep the lily there.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Beauty and Beauty
When Beauty and Beauty meet
All naked, fair to fair,
The earth is crying-sweet,
And scattering-bright the air,
Eddying, dizzying, closing round,
With soft and drunken laughter;
Veiling all that may befall
After - after -
Where Beauty and Beauty met,
Earth's still a-tremble there,
And winds are scented yet,
And memory-soft the air,
Bosoming, folding glints of light,
And shreds of shadowy laughter;
Not the tears that fill the years
After - after -
poem by Rupert Brooke (1913)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Lord Thomas and Fair Annet
Lord Thomas and fair Annet
Sat all day on a hill
When night was come and sun was set
They had not talked their fill.
Lord Thomas said a word in haste
And Annet took it ill;
I winna wed a dowerless maid
Against my parents' will
You're come of the rich, Thomas,
And I'm come of the poor
I'm o'er low to be your bride
And I winna be your whore
O fair Annet, O fair Annet
This night you've said me no
But long or ever this day month
I'll make your heart right woe
Come riddle my riddle dear mother, he said
Come riddle it all in one
Whether I will take fair Annet
Or bring the brown girl home
The nut-brown maid has gold and gear
Fair Annet she has none
And the little beauty fair Annet has
O it will soon be gone
Sheep will die in cots, mother
And oxen die in byre
And what's this world's wealth to me
An I get not my heart's desire
Where will I get a pretty little boy
That'll run my errands soon
That will run to fair Annet's bower
And bid her to my wedding
She mauna put on the black, the black
Nor yet the dowie brown
But the scarlet so red, and the kerchief so white
And her bonny locks hanging down
She has called her maries to her bower
To lay gold in her hair
Where'er you put a plait before
See you lay ten times more
When Annet was in her saddle set
She flamed against the fire
The girdle around her middle small
Was worth an earl's hire
The horse fair Annet rode upon
He bounded like the wind
With silver he was shod before
With burning gold behind
And when she came into the kirk
She shimmered like the sun
The belt that was about her waist
Was all with pearls bedone
Is this your bride, Lord Thomas ? she said
I think she's wondrous brown
You might have had as fair a bride
As e'er the sun shined on
Despise her not fair Annet, he said
Despise her not now unto me
For better I love thy little finger
Than all her whole body
Then out and spoke the nut-brown bride
And she spoke out of spite
O where got you that rose-water
That washed your face so white ?
O I did get the rose-water
Where you will ne'er get none
For I did get that rose-water
Into my mother's womb
The bride she drew a long bodkin
From out her gay headgear
And struck fair Annet to the heart
A deep wound and a sair
O art thou blind Lord Thomas, she said
Or do you not well see
O do you not see my own heart's blood
Run trinkling down my knee ?
He drew his dagger that was so sharp
That was so sharp and meet
And drove it into the nut-brown bride
That fell dead at his feet
O dig my grave, Lord Thomas he said
Dig it both wide and deep
And lay fair Annet by my side
And the brown girl at my feet
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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It Ain't Fair That It Ain't Right
Writers B. Eggers, J. Eggers
Copyright 1970
It ain't fair for you to leave me cold and cryin' in the night
It ain't fair to take your body from my arms and out of sight
It ain't fair you've gone and left me where you kissed me I still burn
Are you leaving for my loving this awful hurt and then return
It ain't fair for you to leave me alone to face the morning light
It ain't fair you took my body and then to say that it ain't right
It ain't fair you've made me your woman a no longer a good girl in your eyes
How come before you said you'd love me it ain't fair that it ain't right
It just ain't fair that it ain't right
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dead Roses
He placed a rose in my nut-brown hair--
A deep red rose with a fragrant heart
And said: 'We'll set this day apart,
So sunny, so wondrous fair.'
His face was full of a happy light,
His voice was tender and low and sweet,
The daisies and the violets grew at our feet--
Alas, for the coming of night!
The rose is black and withered and dead!
'Tis hid in a tiny box away;
The nut-brown hair is turning to gray,
And the light of the day is fled!
The light of the beautiful day is fled,
Hush'd is the voice so sweet and low--
And I--ah, me! I loved him so--
And the daisies grow over his head!
poem by Eugene Field
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Belle Isle
One evening for pleasure I rambled to view
The fair fields all alone
Down by the banks of loch eiron
Where beauty and pleasure were known.
I spied a fair maid at her labour
Which caused me to stay for a while
And I thought of a goddess to beauty
Bloomin bright star of bright isle.
I humbled myself to her beauty
Fair maiden, where do you belong ?
Are you from heaven descended
Abiding in cupids fair throne ? .
Young man, I will tell you a secret
Its true Im a maid that is poor
And to part from my vows and my promise
Is more than my heart can endure.
Therefore I remain at my service
And go through all my hardship and toil
And wait for the lad that has left me
All alone on the banks of belle isle.
Young maiden I wish not to banter
Its true I come here in disguise
I came here to fulfill our last promise
And hope to give you a surprise.
Ive known youre a maid I love dearly
And youve been in my heart all the while
For me there is no other damsel
Than my bloomin bright star of belle isle.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shall I compare thee to a romantic night?
Shall I compare thee to a romantic night?
Thou art more glorious and more stunning:
Rough winds do shake thy beauty and thy loveliness,
And romantic night hath all too short of a date:
Sometimes too cold for the lovers to enjoy,
And often it amorous beauty has gone un-notice;
And from fair to fair its passion is dimmed,
By chance or nature’s changing course thy tender beauty is eternal;
But thy eternal loveliness shall not diminish;
Nor lose thy possession on thy loving heart;
Nor shall romance destroy thy relation;
When in undying lines thou beaming beauty are shown
So long as human can love and eyes can grasp,
So long live this and this gives life to thee
poem by Jeffrey Liminsang
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What is beauty
beauty they say
is being fair of face
beauty is unexplainable
its everywhere, at everyplace
theres beauty in a mothers eyes
and beauty in a babys face
beauty in a soaring tree
and beauty in a
deserted place
beauty in knobbly hands,
that are weathered due to toil and pace
beauty in natures creations
beauty in His kindness and grace
beauty in the joy of parenthood
beauty in the love of friends
beauty too in adversities
and the angels of mercy he also sends
so much beauty, so much joy
all around if we care to see
this world is full of wondrous things
not apparent to you and me
stop to savour reflect awhile
there is beauty all around
things that happen, prayers anwered
His beauty leaves you spellbound
poem by Arti Chopra
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Pretty Lil' Princess
A pretty little princess danced before my eyes
Soon we shared these loving longing sighs
Skin so fair i feared it would shatter
If my hand were to touch it with just a soft patter
Long silky black hair bright rosy cheeks
I drempt of her each night for weeks and weeks
Skin so fair, such ebony hair
I longed to see her pose so i could sit and stare
Rosy red rosy cheeks
I hear a symphony when she speaks
Golden smile of pearly white teeth
A blossoming bloom just out of reach
My heart to hold my soul to teach
A blossoming bloom is not out of reach
At last I have held her and she did not melt
At last she knows what passion i've felt
So many days her radiant beauty shined
So many days on thoughts of her i've dined
A radiant beauty with ebony hair
I long to pose her and sit and stare
I long to kiss her skin so fair
This radiant beauty with ebony hair
Pretty little princess stands on her tiptoes
kissed my face and kissed my nose
Pretty little princess alights up off the ground
I know for a while i must have you around
poem by Beau Golden
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Song of The Rose
F Zeus chose us a King of the flowers in his mirth,
He would call to the rose, and would royally crown it;
For the rose, ho, the rose! is the grace of the earth,
Is the light of the plants that are growing upon it!
For the rose, ho, the rose! is the eye of the flowers,
Is the blush of the meadows that feel themselves fair,
Is the lightning of beauty that strikes through the bowers
On pale lovers that sit in the glow unaware.
Ho, the rose breathes of love! ho, the rose lifts the cup
To the red lips of Cypris invoked for a guest!
Ho, the rose having curled its sweet leaves for the world
Takes delight in the motion its petals keep up,
As they laugh to the wind as it laughs from the west.
A Fair Go Of Anyone We Should Not Deny
Those who judge people by their colour or their creed or their race
The spirit of the fair go could never embrace
But eventually the reality they have to face
That in the twenty first century for their sort of thinking there isn't a place.
Of what I say here to all races apply
A fair go of anyone we should not deny
Those who are prejudiced towards others in their ways are small
Long live the great beauty in a fair go for all.
As we know prejudice and racism is only based on ignorance and fear
And of such negative stuff I don't wish to read of or hear
Their thinking is out of touch and it would seem fair to say
That it is out of place in the World of today.
One fact in black, brown and white and facts never lie
Is that we are mere mortals and born to die
And whoever you are you deserve a fair go
And may happiness and luck in your life you do know
poem by Francis Duggan
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Beautiful Rose
Off on the prairie, where the balmy air
Kisses the waving corn,
There lives a farmer, with a daughter fair--
Fair as a summer's morn!
She has a nature gentle as a dove,
Pure as the mountain snows;
Say! is it strange that everyone should love--
Love such a girl as Rose?
Beautiful Rose! lovely Rose!
Pride of the prairie bower!
Everybody loves her--everybody knows
She is the fairest flower.
Rose is a lady yet from early dawn,
Labors her skillful hand;
She is the housewife, now her mother's gone--
Gone to the better land.
Rose has the beauty--father has the gold--
Both will be hers one day;
For she is young, while he is growing old--
Old people pass away.
Clerks from the city, plowmen from the field,
Lords from a foreign land;
Each in their turn have very humbly kneeled--
Kneeled for her heart and hand.
But to them all she made the same reply--
Kindly but firmly, "No!"
And none but I can tell the reason why--
Why she should treat them so.
poem by Henry Clay Work
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