Poems begining by B
/ page 2 of 94 /Boys and Girls Come out to Play
© Mother Goose
Boys and girls come out to play,The moon does shine as bright as day;Come with a hoop, and come with a call,Come with a good will or not at all
Bah, Bah, Black Sheep
© Mother Goose
Bah, bah, black sheep, Have you any wool?Yes, marry have I, Three bags full;One for my master, One for my dame,But none for the little boyWho cries in the lane.
Business
© Moritz Albert Frank
Stiff, thick: the white hair of the broad-faced father,who leads his shambling son alongcracked sidewalks, by dusty glass half hidinggoods never sold
Bitter Sanctuary
© Harold Monro
Clients have left their photos there to perish.She watches through green shutters those who pressTo reach unconsciousness.
Blown Hilcote Manor
© John Masefield
In perfect June we reached the house to let,In remote woodland, up a private lane,Beyond a pond that seemed as black as jetWhereon a moorhen oared with chickens twain;And from the first a sense of want or debtSeemed to possess the place from ancient pain
Breath
© Marquis Donald Robert Perry
We are the shaken slaves of Breath:For logic leaves the race unstirred;But cadence, and the vibrant word,Are lords of life, are lords of death.
Ballade of Evil
© MacInnes Tom
Evil! What poor argument We mortals hear to make us trustThat as for God he never meant To bait this hook of pain with lust! Then by what devil was it thrustThro' the filmy first upheaval Of our planetary dust?No man knoweth the end of evil
Ballade of the Girton Girl
© Andrew Lang
She has just 'put her gown on' at Girton, She is learned in Latin and Greek,But lawn tennis she plays with a skirt on That the prudish remark with a shriek
Ballad of the Gibbet
© Andrew Lang
An epitaph in the form of a ballad that François Villonwrote of himself and his company, they expectingshortly to be hanged
Brier: Good Friday
© Emily Pauline Johnson
Because, dear Christ, your tender, wounded arm Bends back the brier that edges life's long way,That no hurt comes to heart, to soul no harm, I do not feel the thorns so much to-day.
Before Action
© Hodgson William Noel
By all the glories of the day,And the cool evening's benison:By the last sunset touch that layUpon the hills when day was done:By beauty lavishly outpoured,And blessings carelessly received,By all the days that I have lived,Make me a soldier, Lord
Beale Street Blues
© Handy William Christopher
I've seen the lights of gay Broadway,Old Market Street down by the Frisco Bay,I've strolled the Prado, I've gambled on the BourseThe seven wonders of the world I've seenAnd many are the places I have been
By Bread Alone
© Gilbert Ruth
Love, love, I cannot live by bread aloneThe bread we break and eat monotonouslyUpon my lips turns back, turns back to stone.