An ode to Beauty from two beautiful fools

To worship
At the altar of Beauty,
To feel her loveliness and pain,
To thrill
At the wonder of her gorgeous moon
Or the sharp, swift, silver swords
Of falling rain

To walk in a golden garden
When an autumn sun
Has almost set,
When a near night's purple splendor
Shimmers to a star-shine net.
To worship
At the altar of Beauty
Is a pleasure divine,
Not given to the many many
But to fools
Who drink Beauty's wine.
not given to the many many
But to fools
Who seek no other goddess
Nor grapes
Plucked from another's
Vine.
To Beauty by Langston Hughes







          

I died for beauty, but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.

He questioned softly why I failed?
"For beauty," I replied.
"And I for truth - the two are one;
We brethren are," he said.

And so, as kinsmen met a-night,
We talked between the rooms,
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our names. 

I Died For Beauty by Emily Dickinson