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The only insignificant thing about Mr. Opp was himself. His slight, undeveloped body seemed to be in a chronic state of apology for failing properly to set off the glorious raiment wherewith it was clothed.

Alice Hegan Rice in Mr. Opp (1909)
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A Bank Fraud

He drank strong waters and his speech was coarse;
He purchased raiment and forbore to pay';
He stuck a trusting junior with a horse,
And won gymkhanas in a doubtful way.
Then 'twixt a vice and folly, turned aside
To do good deeds and straight to cloak them, lied.

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Beauty, Its Effect.

I have been touched with her, and have ta'en (Unclear
The acquaintance of her beauty like a dream,
Or as it were a flower of Faerie breathed
By an immortal; for the light and air
Of life and love so, so endue her, she
Puts on and off the sweetest favours like
The momentary raiment that
A goddess dons and doffs.

poem by Robert Crawford
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Beautiful Death

Time with chisel doth carved many line
In thine countenance wrinkled thou lay supine
In front of my eyes I see beauty bear
Death as dotage thine heart's only wear
Underneath thy raiment doth love subtly grow
Into me as I look at life of love thy soul did show
A beautiful death, is a beautiful life
With life and death there is no need to strife…

poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Making Things Right In Exile - After the Chinese Poet, Po Chui 772 - 846 CE

He rests awhile in the wide orchard
where bright plum flowers rain. He
unrolls his pallet to sleep inside
the humming glade.

'Raiment, ' he writes in his sleepy
head, 'of leaves and bees. An old man
puts the best plum in his sleeve to
bring home to his bitter wife.'

'Why strive when nature is bounteous
and all ills can be made right with
wet sweetness? '

poem by Warren Falcon
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Watching Aurora

The stillness of the night now breaks
As the roosters announce, Aurora wakes

In magical splendor unfolds her garments
As deep blue turns to magenta's raiment

Then softly sheer lavender lace the sky
Too magnificent to be drank by the eye

Undressing, she then reveals her hues
Of bright red, and orange, then yellow on blue

Each day that dawns is a spectacular sight
Watching Aurora is a wonderful delight.

poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Jacinths And Jessamines

Jacinths and jessamines and jonquils sweet,
All odorous pale flowers from Orient lands,
No vain red roses strew I at thy feet,
Emblems of grief and thee, with reverent hands.
Mine is no madrigal of passionate joy,
Or orison of aught less chaste than tears.
Ruth on thy brow sits fairest. Its annoy
Rends not thy beauty's raiment, nor the years.
In thy shut lips what secrets! Who am I
Should seek a sign at that dread sanctuary?

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Tempest

You saw perched on a cliff a maid,
Her raiment white above the breakers,
When the mad sea reared up and played
Its whips of spray on coastal acres
And now and then the lightnings flush,
And purple gleams upon her hover,
And fluttering up in swirling rush,
The wind rides in her airy cover?
Fair is the sea in gales arrayed,
The heavens drained of blue and flashing,
But fairer on her cliff the maid
Than storms and skies and breakers crashing.

poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
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Peace

Suddenly bells and flags!
Suddenly -- door to door --
Tidings! Can we believe,
We, who were used to war?

Yet we have dreamed her face,
Knowing her light must be,
Knowing that she must come.
Look -- she comes, it is she!

Tattered her raiment floats,
Blood is upon her wings.
Ah, but her eyes are clear!
Ah, but her voice outrings!

Soon where the shrapnel fell
Petals shall wake and stir.
Look -- she is here, she lives!
Beauty has died for her.

poem by Eleanor Agnes Lee
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O, In A World Of Men And Women

0, in a world of men and women,
Where all things seemed so strange to me,
And speech the common world called human
For me was a vain mimicry,

I thought-O, am I one in sorrow ?
Or is the world more quick to hide
Their pain with raiment that they borrow
From pleasure in the house of pride ?

O joy of mine, 0 longed-for stranger,
How I would greet you if you came:
In the world's joys I've been a ranger,
In my world sorrow is their name.

poem by Isaac Rosenberg
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