Vieni tu dal cielo profondo o sorgi dall'abisso, Beltà?

Il tuo sguardo, infernale e divino, versa,

mischiandoli, beneficio e delitto: per questo ti si può

comparare al vino.

Riunisci nel tuo occhio il tramonto e l'aurora, diffondi

profumi come una sera di tempesta; i tuoi baci sono

un filtro, la tua bocca un'anfora, che rendono audace

il fanciullo, l'eroe vile.

Sorgi dal nero abisso o discendi dagli astri? Il

Destino incantato segue le tue gonne come un cane:

tu semini a casaccio la gioia e i disastri, hai imperio

su tutto, non rispondi di nulla.

Cammini sopra i morti, Beltà, e ti ridi di essi, fra i tuoi

gioielli l'Orrore non è il meno affascinante e il Delitto,

che sta fra i tuoi gingilli più cari, sul tuo ventre

orgoglioso danza amorosamente.

La farfalla abbagliata vola verso di te, o candela, e

crepita, fiammeggia e dice: "Benediciamo questa

fiaccola!" L'innamorato palpitante chinato sulla bella

sembra un morente che accarezzi la propria tomba.

Venga tu dal cielo o dall'inferno, che importa, o

Beltà, mostro enorme, pauroso, ingenuo; se il tuo

occhio, e sorriso, se il tuo piede, aprono per me la

porta d'un Infinito adorato che non ho conosciuto?

Da Satana o da Dio, che importa? Angelo o Sirena,

che importa se tu - fata dagli occhi vellutati, profumo,

luce, mia unica regina - fai l'universo meno orribile e

questi istanti meno gravi?

Charles Baudelaire

She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

Thus mellowed to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impaired the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens over her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and over that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

Lord Byron

The well was dry beside the door,
And so we went with pail and can
Across the fields behind the house
To seek the brook if still it ran;

Not loth to have excuse to go,
Because the autumn eve was fair
(Though chill), because the fields were ours,
And by the brook our woods were there.

We ran as if to meet the moon
That slowly dawned behind the trees,
The barren boughs without the leaves,
Without the birds, without the breeze.

But once within the wood, we paused
Like gnomes that hid us from the moon,
Ready to run to hiding new
With laughter when she found us soon.

Each laid on other a staying hand
To listen ere we dared to look,
And in the hush we joined to make
We heard, we knew we heard the brook.

A note as from a single place,
A slender tinkling fall that made
Now drops that floated on the pool
Like pearls, and now a silver blade.

Robert Frost

Ah Sunflower, weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the sun;
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the traveller's journey is done;

Where the Youth pined away with desire,
And the pale virgin shrouded in snow,
Arise from their graves, and aspire
Where my Sunflower wishes to go!

William Blake

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did

Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain

E.E. Cummings