Poems begining by B
/ page 24 of 94 /
Back From A Two-years' Sentence
© James Whitcomb Riley
Back from a two-years' sentence!
And though it had been ten,
Blake
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
All beauty to pourtray,
Therein his duty lay,
And still through toilsome strife
Duty to him was life
Most thankful still that duty
Lay in the paths of beauty.
Between The Wind And Rain
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
"The storm is in the air," she said, and held
Her soft palm to the breeze; and looking up,
Barbara Allen's Cruelty
© Thomas Percy
In Scarlet towne, where I was borne,
There was a faire maid dwellin,
Made every youth crye, wel-awaye!
Her name was Barbara Allen.
Barthelemon At Vauxhall
© Thomas Hardy
Francois Hippolite Barthelemon, first-fiddler at Vauxhall Gardens,
composed what was probably the most popular morning hymn-tune ever
written. It was formerly sung, full-voiced, every Sunday in most
churches, to Bishop Ken's words, but is now seldom heard.
Beyond The Veil
© Henry Vaughan
They are all gone into the world of light!
And I alone sit ling'ring here;
By the Cliffs of the Sea
© Henry Kendall
In a far-away glen of the hills,
Where the bird of the night is at rest,
Broken Music
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
I know not in what fashion she was made,
Nor what her voice was, when she used to speak,
Nor if the silken lashes threw a shade
On wan or rosy cheek.
By The Seaside
© William Wordsworth
The sun is couched, the sea-fowl gone to rest,
And the wild storm hath somewhere found a nest;
Air slumbers-wave with wave no longer strives,
Only a heaving of the deep survives,
Bonnie New South Wales
© Henry Lawson
The waratah and wattle there in all their glory grow
And if they bloom on hills elsewhere, Im not supposed to know,
The tales that other States may tellI never hear the tales!
For I, her son, have sinned as well as Bonnie New South Wales.
Better Things
© George MacDonald
Better to smell the violet
Than sip the glowing wine;
Better to hearken to a brook
Than watch a diamond shine.
Book Of Hafis - The Unlimited
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
THAT thou can't never end, doth make thee great,
And that thou ne'er beginnest, is thy fate.
Ballade of Summer's Sleep
© Archibald Lampman
Till the slayer be slain and the spring displace
The might of his arms with her rose-crowned bands,
Let her heart not gather a dream that is base:
Shadow her head with your golden hands.
Ballade Of The Average Reader
© Franklin Pierce Adams
Most read of readers, if you've read
The works of any old succeeder,
You know that he, too, must have said:
"I've never seen an Average Reader."
Breitmann In Kansas
© Charles Godfrey Leland
VONCE oopon a dimes, goot vhile afder der var vas ofer, der Herr
Breitmann vent oud Vest, drafellin' apout like efery dings -
"circuivit terram et perambulavit eam," ash der Teufel said ven
dey ask him: "How vash you und how you has peen?"
Breitmann In La Sorbonne
© Charles Godfrey Leland
DER Breitmann sits in la Sorbonne,
A note-pook in his hand,
'Tvas dere he vent to lectures,
Und in oldt Louis le Grand.
Be Cheerful
© Edgar Albert Guest
Let me ask you anyhow.
Let the other fellow hurry,
Let the other fellow worry,
You won't know a thing about it
Barbershop Quartet, East Village Grille by Sebastian Matthews: American Life in Poetry #207 Ted Koos
© Ted Kooser
People singing, not professionally but just singing for joy, it's a wonderful celebration of life. In this poem by Sebastian Matthews of North Carolina, a father and son happen upon a handful of men singing in a cafe, and are swept up into their pleasure and community.
Barbershop Quartet,
Bride Song (From 'The Prince's Progress')
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Too late for love, too late for joy,
Too late, too late!
