With aught of change, as the eyes may seem Lifeless, but life-like, and awful to sight. Byron. Her Beauty elevated by thoughtful Expression. Thy cheek is pale with thought, but not from woe, Gleams like a seraph from the sky descending, Byron. Beauty unimpressive without Expression. No woman can be handsome by the force of features alone, any more than she can be witty only by the help of speech. D Hughes. Her Beauty compared to Flowers. Her cheeks are like the blushing cloud Or like the silver-crimson shroud That Phoebus' smiling looks doth grace. Her lips are like two budded roses, Whom ranks of lilies neighbour nigh, Her neck is like a stately tower, To watch for glances every hour From her divine and sacred eyes. Hodge. Her Recollection of Faded Beauty. When cheeks are faded and eyes are dim, is it sad or pleasant, I wonder, for the woman who is a beauty no more, to recall the period of her bloom? When the heart is withered, do the old love to remember how it once was fresh, and beat with warm emotions? When the spirits are languid and weary, do we like to think how bright they were in other days; the hope how buoyant, the sympathies how ready, the enjoyment of life how keen and eager? So they fall-the buds of prime, the roses of beauty, the florid harvests of summer-fall and wither, and the naked branches shiver in the winter. W. M. Thackeray. Her Gentle Beauty. This passeth yeer by yeer, and day by day, That Emilie, that fairer was to seene Than is the lilie on hire stalkes grene, And frescher than the May with floures newe; I wot which was the fyner of hem two. And as aungel hevenly sche song. Glorious in her Beauty. Can you paint a thought? or number Every fancy in a slumber? Chaucer. |