Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
People say beauty is in the eye of the beholder
Doesn't matter what your age, younger or older
How you view the world around you
Will determine what you see and what you do.
Beauty can be seen in many things
Winter, fall, summer and spring
If you choose to appreciate all
Beauty can be seen big and small.
You just have to take the time to see
In all things there is beauty.
So open your eyes and look around
And beautiful will be found.
Poet: Lillian E. Curtis
Neither size, shape, nor color, come in demand,
To form the beauty of a woman's hand.
To prize but a faultless shape and snowy shade,
Were to admire beauty that soon may fade;
While the darkest hand and the homeliest one.
May have many a deed of kindness done;
The plainest one we say may have gained hues of beauty,
By unflinchingly performing deeds of duty;
That plain brown hand just you raise it up,
And say it shall dash aside the wine cup.
And lo, its beauty ineffable and untold.
Far surpasses brilliant gems of shining gold;
But let the fairest hand offer the wine cup to a human being,
And there's no beauty in it worth the seeing.
Poet: Unknown
From the mint two bright new pennies came,
The value and beauty of both the same:
One slipped from the hand, and fell to the ground,
Then rolled out of sight and could not be found;
The other was passed by many a hand,
Through many a change in many a land
For temple dues paid, now used in the mart,
Now bestowed on the poor by a pitying heart.
At length it so happened, as years went round
That the long-lost, unused coin was found,
Filthy and black, its inscription destroyed
Through rusting peacefully unemployed;
"Whilst the well-worked coin was bright and clear
Through active service year after year;
For the brightest are those who live for duty
Rust more than rubbing will tarnish beauty.
Poet: Mollie S. Runcorn
She sighed for beauty, for wealth and fame,
For pleasures she had not known;
"If only these charmed things were mine,
Content would be my own."
She sighed for a lover brave and kind.
For friends that were good and true;
She did not know that these are won
By things that we say and do.
Beauty and fame never dwelt with her,
And wealth never came her way,
But happiness came an abiding guest
When this lesson she learned one day:
That it isn't the house you live in,
And it isn't the clothes you wear,
That makes your friends admire you,
Or makes a lover care.
Nor is it a form divinely wrought,
Or cheek of a lovely hue,
Nor locks the Lorelei might wish,
Or eyes of corn-flower blue.
But it is the words we speak each day,
And the acts of kindness done,
That makes our old friends love us,
And the way that new are won.
more beauty quotes
Poet: Julia P. Ballard
"What a pity nothing ever
Has a beauty that will stay!"
Said our thoughtful little Nellie,
Stopping briefly in her play.
"Ail these velvet pansies withered
And I picked them just today!"
"And there's nothing very certain,"
Answered Bess with face demure;
"When it rains we can't go driving
I wish promises were truer!
I could rest, if I were certain
Of a single thing that's sure!"
Grandma smiled from out her corner,
Smoothing back a soft gray tress;
"Sixty seconds make a minute;
Did you know it, little Bess?
Sixty minutes make an hour,
Never more, and never less.
"For the seconds in a minute,
Whether full of work or fun,
Or the minutes in an hour,
.Never number sixty-one!
That is one thing that is certain
Ever since the world begun.
"Though the rose may lose its crimson
And the buttercup its gold,
There is something, through all changes,
You may always surely hold:
Truth can never lose its beauty
Nor its strength by growing old."
Poet: Daniel C. Colesworthy
Where'er I turn my wondering- eyes.
What beauty I behold!
The broad green earth - the vaulting skies -
The moving clouds of gold;
The verdure of the opening spring
The blossoms and the flowers;
What raptures do such blessings bring
In this bright world of ours!
The ice-bound lakes - the drifting snow -
Have beauties in their turn;
In heat or cold - above, below,
What glories I discern!
Thus earth is beautiful to me
Through all the changing year;
Alike when winter's frost I see,
Or when the birds I hear.
How faint the glories earth can bring.
Compared with those above;
'Tis but the shadow of His wing -
The darkness of His love.
Poet: Isabel C. Byrum
As fragrance sweet perfumes the air,
From flowers dull, from flowers fair,
A thought arises in my mind,
That I may here a lesson find:
The flower clothed in colors bright
May seem indeed a pretty sight;
But when I search for fragrance rare,
I seek in vain; it is not there.
Far in a corner, hidden quite,
A tiny bloom, not half so bright,
Is sending forth its fragrance rare,
That, rising, sweetly scents the air.
Though small, this blossom oft can cheer
A troubled heart, when passing near,
And in a quiet, simple way,
Some silent grief can often stay.
Just so with people of today;
We can not judge by faces gay.
A heart that's shaded black as night
May have a face that's pretty, bright;
But wait a moment, look within,
A heart you'll see all stained with sin.
No fragrance can this blighted one
Impart to others; it hath none.
But there's a face, so tender plain
Above a heart that's never vain;
There sweetest graces, rich and rare,
Lend, daily, perfume to the air,
Cheers pilgrims sad along the way,
Entreats no gratitude as pay.
Sweet emblem of the Christ below,
The Lily of the long ago!
Sweet flowerets sent from God above
Teach others lessons of his love.
Though crushed and bruised beneath our feet,
Their perfume rises still more sweet;
To passers-by tells silently
The story of life's mystery;
And though their life may soon be gone,
Their fragrance sweet will linger on.
Poet: Margaret E. Sangster
For pasture-lands folded with beauty,
For plenty that burdened the vale,
For the wealth of the teeming abundance,
And the promise too royal to fail,
We lift to the Maker our anthems,
But none the less cheerily come
To thank him for bloom and fruition
And the happiness crowning the home.
Poet: Anna R. Henderson
Garner the beautiful as you go;
Wait not for a time of leisure,
The hours of toil may be long and slow,
And the moments few of pleasure.
But beauty strays by the common ways,
And calls to the dullest being;
Then let not thine ear be deaf to hear,
Or thine eye be slow in seeing.
Kind nature calls from her varied halls.
"I will give you balm for sadness."
Let the sunset's gleam and the laugh of the stream
Awaken thoughts of gladness;
If a bird should pour his song by the door,
Let thy heart respond with singing;
The wind and the trees have harmonies
That may set thy joy-bells ringing.
Pause oft by a flower in its leafy bower,
And feast thine eye on its beauty;
A queen hath bliss no rarer than this,
'Tis thy privilege and duty.
And oh! when the shout of a child rings out,
And its face is bright with gladness,
Let it kindle the shine of joy in thine,
And banish care and sadness!
Then gather the beautiful by your way;
It was made for the soul's adorning:
'Tis a darksome path which no radiance hath
At noon, at eve, in the morning.
Hard is the soil where we delve and toil
In the homely field of duty,
But the hand of our King to us doth fling
The shining flowers of beauty.
Poet: John Greenleaf Whittier
A life of beauty lends to all it sees
The beauty of its thought,
And fairest forms and sweetest harmonies
Make glad its way unsought.
In sweet accordancy of praise and love,
The singing waters run,
And sunset mountains wear in light above
The smile of duty done.
Sure stands the promise - ever to the meek
A heritage is given;
Nor lose they earth who, single-hearted, seek
The righteousness of heaven.
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
There is beauty in the celebration of birthdays,
You're here to be blessed each and every day.
Memories of years gone by that we wouldn't trade
A birthday is an opportunity to see more memories made.
The beauty is in the bonds, love that only grows,
With the people we cherish, our hearts warmly close.
So be thankful for the beauty that another birthday brings
There are many who would love all these things.
Poet: Caroline
What is beauty? Do the features
Finely moulded, fair to view.
Make this treasure often sought for
By the many? No! ah, no.
What is beauty? Do the tresses
Falling o'er the lily neck.
Either of the golden auburn,
Or the glossy raven black,
Form the beauty that is worthy
Of our praises and esteem?
No! the heart that wears them may be
Filled with guile, although unseen.
What is beauty? Do the blushes
On the lovely maiden's cheek,
Vying with the freshest roses,
Form the beauty we would seek?
No! the blush of shame it may be.
Where, then, does the treasure lie?
Is it in the lip of ruby -
Is it in the sparkling eye?
Or does art give graceful beauty
To the fair and fragile form;
Is it dress that makes the wearer
Beautiful to look upon?
No! 'tis folly thus to seek it,
Thus the treasure strive to win;
Nothing outward sure can make it -
Beauty lies enshrined within.
'Tis the mind adorned with graces
That contains the magic prize;
If you seek it, there you'll find it,
There true, real beauty lies.
