Poems begining by B
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Bobby's Pocket
© Carolyn Wells
Our Bobby is a little boy, of six years old, or so;
And every kind of rubbish in his pocket he will stow.
Blue Smoke
© Karle Wilson Baker
The flame of my life burns low
Under the cluttered days,
Like a fire of leaves.
But always a little blue, sweet-smelling smoke
Goes up to God.
Buckdancers Choice
© James Dickey
So I would hear out those lungs,
The air split into nine levels,
Some gift of tongues of the whistler
Breton Afternoon
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
Here, where the breath of the scented-gorse floats through the
sun-stained air,
On a steep hill-side, on a grassy ledge, I have lain hours long
and heard
Only the faint breeze pass in a whisper like a prayer,
And the river ripple by and the distant call of a bird.
Beyond the Sea
© Thomas Love Peacock
Beyond the sea, beyond the sea,
My heart is gone, far, far from me;
And ever on its track will flee
My thoughts, my dreams, beyond the sea.
By Moschus
© William Cowper
I slept when Venus enter'd: to my bed
A Cupid in her beauteous hand she led,
Boston
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
St. Botolph's Town! Hither across the plains
And fens of Lincolnshire, in garb austere,
Before The Fair
© Padraic Colum
"Lost," "lost," the beeves and the bullocks,
The cattle men sell and buy,
Crowded upon the fair green,
Low to the lightless sky.
But For The Tears
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
"The World were a place to play in," said the children,
"The playground of the present; all that is have we,
Before a Fall
© Geoffrey Grigson
And what was the big room he walked in?
The big room he walked in,
Over the smooth floor,
Under the sky light,
Was his own brain.
Beauty And The Bird
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
SHE fluted with her mouth as when one sips,
And gently waved her golden head, inclin'd
Beata Beatrix
© Arthur Symons
Lay your head back; and now, kiss me again!
Kneel there, and do not kiss me; let me hold
"Booh!"
© Eugene Field
On afternoons, when baby boy has had a splendid nap,
And sits, like any monarch on his throne, in nurse's lap,
In some such wise my handkerchief I hold before my face,
And cautiously and quietly I move about the place;
Then, with a cry, I suddenly expose my face to view,
And you should hear him laugh and crow when I say "Booh"!
Burns
© John Greenleaf Whittier
No more these simple flowers belong
To Scottish maid and lover;
Sown in the common soil of song,
They bloom the wide world over.
By Word of Mouth
© Rudyard Kipling
Not though you die to-night, O Sweet, and wail,
A spectre at my door,
Shall mortal Fear make Love immortal fail -
I shall but love you more,
Who, from Death's House returning, give me still
One moment's comfort in my matchless ill.
By Callimachus
© William Cowper
At morn we placed on his funeral bier
Young Melanippus; and, at eventide,
Blind Old Milton
© William Edmondstoune Aytoun
Place me once more, my daughter, where the sun
May shine upon my old and time-worn head,
Beloved, with the spent and sickly fumes...
© Boris Pasternak
Beloved, with the spent and sickly fumes
Of rumour's cinders all the air is filled,
But you are the engrossing lexicon
Of fame mysterious and unrevealed,
Beer
© Charles Stuart Calverley
In those old days which poets say were golden -
(Perhaps they laid the gilding on themselves:
