Poems begining by B
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Beaver Brook
© James Russell Lowell
Hushed with broad sunlight lies the hill,
And, minuting the long day's loss,
The cedar's shadow, slow and still,
Creeps o'er its dial of gray moss.
Bird Language
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
One day in the bluest of summer weather,
Sketching under a whispering oak,
I heard five bobolinks laughing together
Over some ornithological joke.
Boy and Egg by Naomi Shihab Nye: American Life in Poetry #30 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-200
© Ted Kooser
Naomi Shihab Nye lives in San Antonio, Texas. Here she perfectly captures a moment in childhood that nearly all of us may remember: being too small for the games the big kids were playing, and fastening tightly upon some little thing of our own.
Below Her Window
© Robert Fuller Murray
Where she sleeps, no moonlight shines
No pale beam unbidden creeps.
Darkest shade the place enshrines
Where she sleeps.
Breitmann In Battle
© Charles Godfrey Leland
I DINKS I'll go a vightin'" - outshpoke der Breitemann.
"It's eighdeen hoonderd fordy-eight since I kits swordt in hand;
Dese fourdeen years mit Hecker all roostin' I haf been,
Boot now I kicks der Teufel oop and goes for sailin' in."
Ballades I - To Theocritus, In Winter
© Andrew Lang
Master,when rain, and snow, and sleet
And northern winds are wild, to thee
We come, we rest in thy retreat,
Where breaks the blue Sicilian sea!
Beds To The Front Of Them
© Louisa May Alcott
"Beds to the front of them,
Beds to the right of them,
Bateese And His Little Decoys
© William Henry Drummond
O I'm very very tire Marie,
I wonder if I'm able hol' a gun
An' me dat 's alway risin' wit' de sun
An' travel on de water, an' paddle ma canoe
Between The Rapids
© Archibald Lampman
The point is turned; the twilight shadow fills
The wheeling stream, the soft receding shore,
Bums On Waking
© James Dickey
Bums, on waking,
Do not always find themselves
In gutters with water running over their legs
And the pillow of the curbstone
Turning hard as sleep drains from it.
Mostly, they do not know
Beggars
© Ella Higginson
CHILD with the hungry eyes,
The pallid mouth and brow,
And the lifted, asking hands,
I am more starved than thou.
By Faith With Thanksgiving
© Edith Nesbit
LOVE is no bird that nests and flies,
No rose that buds and blooms and dies,
Beata Solitudo
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
What land of Silence,
Where pale stars shine
On apple-blossom
And dew-drenched vine,
Is yours and mine?
Boadicea
© Alfred Tennyson
While about the shore of Mona those Neronian legionaries
Burnt and broke the grove and altar of the Druid and Druidess,
Far in the East Boadicea, standing loftily charioted,
Mad and maddening all that heard her in her fierce volubility,
Girt by half the tribes of Britain, near the colony Camulodune,
Yell'd and shriek'd between her daughters o'er a wild confederacy.
Below And Above
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
I SEE in the forest coverts
The sheen of shimmering lights;
They gleam from the dusky shadows,
They flash from the ghostly heights:
Ballads Of Four Seasons: Spring
© Li Po
The lovely Lo Fo of the western land
Plucks mulberry leaves by the waterside.
Across the green boughs stretches out her white hand;
In golden sunshine her rosy robe is dyed.
"my silkworms are hungry, I cannot stay.
Tarry not with your five-horse cab, I pray."
