Poems begining by B
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Blest are the pure in heart
© John Keble
Blest are the pure in heart,
For they shall see our God;
The secret of the Lord is theirs;
Their soul is Christs abode.
But The Artist...
© Daniil Ivanovich Kharms
But the artist sat the nude model on the table and moved her legs apart. The girl hardly resisted and merely covered her face with her hands.
Amonova and Strakhova said that first the girl should have been taken off to the bathroom and washed between her legs, as any whiff of such an aroma was simply repulsive.
Bigotry's Victim
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
Dares the lama, most fleet of the sons of the wind,
The lion to rouse from his skull-covered lair?
When the tiger approaches can the fast-fleeting hind
Bulb Planting Time
© Edgar Albert Guest
Last night he said the dead were dead
And scoffed my faith to scorn;
Banished from Massachusetts
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Over the threshold of his pleasant home
Set in green clearings passed the exiled Friend,
Bibliolatres
© James Russell Lowell
Bowing thyself in dust before a Book,
And thinking the great God is thine alone,
Balade
© Geoffrey Chaucer
HYD, Absolon, thy gilte tresses clere;
Ester, ley thou thy meknesse al a-doun;
Breitmann In Holland. Leyden.
© Charles Godfrey Leland
TIS shveet to valk in Holland towns
Apout de twilicht tide,
Vhen all ish shdill on proad canals,
Safe vhere a poat may clide.
Ballade Of Old Plays
© Andrew Lang
Ghosts, at your Poet's word ye dare
To break Death's dungeons through,
And frisk, as in that golden air,
When these Old Plays were new!
Breitmann In Belgium. Gent.
© Charles Godfrey Leland
If I hat gold, as I hafe time,
I tells you how 'tvere shpent,
On efery year I'd shtay a week
In Vlanderen's hoofstad, Gent.
Bathing In The River
© Abraham Cowley
The fish around her crowded, as they do
To the false light that treacherous fisher shew,
Ben Allah Achmet, or, the Fatal Tum
© William Schwenck Gilbert
I once did know a Turkish man
Whom I upon a two-pair-back met,
His name it was EFFENDI KHAN
BACKSHEESH PASHA BEN ALLAH ACHMET.
Bega
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
FROM the clouded belfry calling,
Hear my soft ascending swells;
Brennbaum
© Ezra Pound
The sky-like limpid eyes,
The circular infant's face,
The stiffness from spats to collar
Never relaxing into grace;
Butterflies
© Alfred Noyes
Where were all the butterflies
When the skies
Clouded and their bowers of clover
Bowed beneath the golden shower?
Every flower
Shook and the rose was brimming over.
Ballade adresse a Geoffrey Chaucer
© Eustache Deschamps
O Socratès plains de philosophie,
Seneque en meurs, Auglius en pratique,
Ovides grans en ta poëtrie,
Briés en parler, saiges en rethorique . . .
Grant translateur, noble Geoffrey Chaucier.
Beauty
© Jones Very
I gazed upon thy face--and beating life,
Once stilled its sleepless pulses in my breast
