I heard them say, "Her hands are hard as stone,"
And I remembered how she laid for me
The road to heaven. They said, "Her hair is grey."
Then I remembered how she once had thrown
Long plaited strands, like cables, into the sea
I battled in -- the salt sea of dismay.
They say, "Her beauty's past." And then I wept,
That these, who should have been in love adept,
Against my font of beauty should blaspheme.
And hearing a new music, miss the theme.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Her Beauty by Max Plowman )
- PROBLEM OF TODAY'S ERA, maharshi trivedi
- FREE FALL, Bironga Chadwick
- Imbalance, Hans Raj Sharma
- Festival Of Light, Amitava Sur
- YouTube and Phalloplasty, Jeff Gangwer
- Journey, Dave Cadaqu
- Brad Pitt / Brad Dourif, Jeff Gangwer
- History / Your Dust, Jeff Gangwer
- "...through your rape whistle", Jeff Gangwer
- "Angels are...", Jeff Gangwer
Poem of the Day
- Home And Love, Robert William Service
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- Primitive, Sharon Olds
- All the World's a Stage, William Shakespeare
- If, Rudyard Kipling
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
- Heather Burns
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Robert William Service
(16 January 1874 - 11 September 1958)
Rainer Maria Rilke
(4 December 1875 – 29 December 1926)