Poems begining by B
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Bored And Sad
© Mikhail Lermontov
It's boring and sad, and there's no one around
In times of my spirit's travail…
Desires!…What use is our vain and eternal desire?..
While years pass on by - all the best years!
Book Third [Residence at Cambridge]
© William Wordsworth
IT was a dreary morning when the wheels
Rolled over a wide plain o'erhung with clouds,
And nothing cheered our way till first we saw
The long-roofed chapel of King's College lift
Turrets and pinnacles in answering files,
Extended high above a dusky grove.
Book Of Suleika - The Loving One Again
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
WRITES he in Neski,
Faithfully speaks he;
Writes he in Tali,
Joy to give, seeks he:
Writes he in either,
Good!-for he loves!
Beach Burial with German Translation
© Kenneth Slessor
Softly and humbly to the Gulf of Arabs
The convoys of dead sailors come;
At night they sway and wander in the waters far under,
But morning rolls them in the foam.
Book Thirteenth [Imagination And Taste, How Impaired And Restored Concluded]
© William Wordsworth
FROM Nature doth emotion come, and moods
Of calmness equally are Nature's gift:
Burial
© John Keble
And when the Lord saw her, He had compassion on her, and said unto
her, Weep not. And He came and touched the bier; and they that
bare him stood still. And He said, Young man, I say unto thee,
Arise.-St. Luke vii. 13, 14.
Beneath the Moon, Before the Steps
© Li Yu
Beneath the moon, before the steps, all cherry blossom has fallen,
Enwreathed in smoke, she looks sorrowful lying in bed.
Ballad Of The Traitors Soul
© Edgar Lee Masters
'Twas the shrunken soul of the traitor
That whined in a coign of the dark;
And the fiends were aroused from slumber,
When Cerberus began to bark.
By The Fireside : Resignation
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
There is no flock, however watched and tended,
But one dead lamb is there!
There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended,
But has one vacant chair!
Blessed Are The Dead. (From The German)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
O, how blest are ye whose toils are ended!
Who, through death, have unto God ascended!
Ye have arisen
From the cares which keep us still in prison.
Bankruptcy Hearing by Dana Bisignani : American Life in Poetry #260 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2
© Ted Kooser
These days are brim full of bad news about our economy-businesses closing, people losing their houses, their jobs. If there’s any comfort in a situation like this, it’s in the fact that there’s a big community of sufferers. Here’s a poem by Dana Bisignani, who lives in Indiana, that describes what it feels like to sit through a bankruptcy hearing.
Bankruptcy Hearing
Book Of Parables - Bulbul's Song
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
To reward her melody,
Giveth he a cage of gold.
Such a cage are limbs of men,--
Branding The Foals
© Padraic Colum
WHY do I look for fire to brand these foals?
What do I need, when all within is fire?
Behind The House Is The Millet Plot
© Muna Lee
Behind the house is the millet plot,
And past the millet, the stile;
And then a hill where melilot
Grows with wild camomile.
Beauergards Appeal
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
YEA! since the need is bitter,
Take down those sacred bells,
Whose music speaks of hallowed joys,
And passionate farewells!
Back To School
© Edgar Albert Guest
It ain' the ringing of the bell
which calls me back to skule once more;
Bud Discusses Cleanliness
© Edgar Albert Guest
First thing in the morning, last I hear at night,
Get it when I come from school: "My, you look a sight!
Go upstairs this minute, an' roll your sleeves up high
An' give your hands a scrubbing and wipe 'em till they're dry!
Now don't stand there and argue, and never mind your tears!
And this time please remember to wash your neck and ears."
Breitmann Interviews The Pope
© Charles Godfrey Leland
VON efenin ash der Breitmann vent from his weinhaus vinkin,
So peepy mit Falernian vitch he vas starkly trinkin,
He found his hut and goat was gone, - dey'd dook em oud for dryin,-
Und in deir blace a priester hut und priester mantel lyin.
Becoming A Dad
© Edgar Albert Guest
Old women say that men don't know
The pain through which all mothers go,
