I am as lovely as a dream in stone; <br />My breast on which each finds his death in turn <br />Inspires the poet with a love as lone <br />As everlasting clay, and as taciturn. <br />Swan-white of heart, as sphinx no mortal knows, <br />My throne is in the heaven's azure deep; <br />I hate all movement that disturbs my pose; <br />I smile not ever, neither do I weep. <br /> <br />Before my monumental attitudes, <br />Taken from the proudest plastic arts, <br />My poets pray in austere studious moods, <br /> <br />For I, to fold enchantment round their hearts, <br />Have pools of light where beauty flames and dies, <br />The placid mirrors of my luminous eyes.<br /><br />Charles Baudelaire<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/beauty-2/
