Beauty

Oh, Beauty, passing beauty! sweetest Sweet!
How canst thou let me waste my youth in sighs;
I only ask to sit beside thy feet.
Thou knowest I dare not look into thine eyes,
Might I but kiss thy hand! I dare not fold
My arms about thee—scarcely dare to speak.
And nothing seems to me so wild and bold,
As with one kiss to touch thy blessèd cheek.
Methinks if I should kiss thee, no control
Within the thrilling brain could keep afloat
The subtle spirit. Even while I spoke,
The bare word KISS hath made my inner soul
To tremble like a lutestring, ere the note
Hath melted in the silence that it broke.

by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Comments (1)

''Do not strike the chord of sorrow tonight! Days burning with pain turn to ashes.'' beautiful opening.. In Italian: ''Non suonare l'accordo del dolore questa notte! I giorni che ardono di dolore si trasformano in cenere.''