Poems begining by B
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Baile And Aillinn
© William Butler Yeats
ARGUMENT. Baile and Aillinn were lovers, but Aengus, the
Master of Love, wishing them to he happy in his own land
among the dead, told to each a story of the other's death, so
that their hearts were broken and they died.
Beggar To Beggar Cried
© William Butler Yeats
'Time to put off the world and go somewhere
And find my health again in the sea air,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'And make my soul before my pate is bare.-
Before The World Was Made
© William Butler Yeats
If I make the lashes dark
And the eyes more bright
And the lips more scarlet,
Or ask if all be right
Byzantium
© William Butler Yeats
The unpurged images of day recede;
The Emperor's drunken soldiery are abed;
Night resonance recedes, night walkers' song
After great cathedral gong;
Broken Dreams
© William Butler Yeats
Your beauty can but leave among us
Vague memories, nothing but memories.
A young man when the old men are done talking
Will say to an old man, 'Tell me of that lady
The poet stubborn with his passion sang us
When age might well have chilled his blood.'
But Not Forgotten
© Dorothy Parker
I think, no matter where you stray,
That I shall go with you a way.
Though you may wander sweeter lands,
You will not soon forget my hands,
Bric-a-Brac
© Dorothy Parker
Little things that no one needs --
Little things to joke about --
Little landscapes, done in beads.
Little morals, woven out,
Ballade Of A Great Weariness
© Dorothy Parker
There's little to have but the things I had,
There's little to bear but the things I bore.
There's nothing to carry and naught to add,
And glory to Heaven, I paid the score.
Ballade at Thirty-five
© Dorothy Parker
This, no song of an ingénue,
This, no ballad of innocence;
This, the rhyme of a lady who
Followed ever her natural bents.
By All Love's Soft, Yet Mighty Powers
© John Wilmot
By all love's soft, yet mighty powers,
It is a thing unfit,
That men should fuck in time of flowers,
Or when the smock's beshit.
Bat's Ultrasound
© Les Murray
Sleeping-bagged in a duplex wing
with fleas, in rock-cleft or building
radar bats are darkness in miniature,
their whole face one tufty crinkled ear
Babi Yar
© Yevgeny Yevtushenko
No monument stands over Babi Yar.
A drop sheer as a crude gravestone.
I am afraid.
Today I am as old in years
Bag-Snatching In Dublin
© Stevie Smith
Sisely
Walked so nicely
With footsteps so discreet
To see her pass
You'd never guess
She walked upon the street.
Beyond the Snow Belt
© Mary Oliver
And what else might we do? Les us be truthful.
Two counties north the storm has taken lives.
Two counties north, to us, is far away, -
A land of trees, a wing upon a map,
A wild place never visited, - so we
Forget with ease each far mortality.
Black Oaks
© Mary Oliver
Not one can manage a single sound though the blue jays
carp and whistle all day in the branches, without
the push of the wind.
Bien Loin D'ici
© Charles Baudelaire
HERE is the chamber consecrate,
Wherein this maiden delicate,
And enigmatically sedate,
Balcony
© Charles Baudelaire
MOTHER of memories, mistress of mistresses,
O thou, my pleasure, thou, all my desire,
Thou shalt recall the beauty of caresses,
The charm of evenings by the gentle fire,
Beauty
© Charles Baudelaire
I AM as lovely as a dream in stone,
And this my heart where each finds death in turn,
Inspires the poet with a love as lone
As clay eternal and as taciturn.
