Poems begining by B

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Belief

© David Herbert Lawrence

Forever nameless
Forever unknwon
Forever unconceived
Forever unrepresented
yet forever felt in the soul.

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Boyish Sleep

© Hamlin Garland

And all night long we lie in sleep,

 Too sweet to sigh in, or to dream,

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Bavarian Gentians

© David Herbert Lawrence

Not every man has gentians in his house
in Soft September, at slow, Sad Michaelmas.Bavarian gentians, big and dark, only dark
darkening the daytime torchlike with the smoking blueness of Pluto's
gloom,

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Brother and Sister

© David Herbert Lawrence

The shorn moon trembling indistinct on her path,
Frail as a scar upon the pale blue sky,
Draws towards the downward slope: some sorrow hath
Worn her down to the quick, so she faintly fares
Along her foot-searched way without knowing why
She creeps persistent down the sky’s long stairs.

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Baby Tortoise

© David Herbert Lawrence

You know what it is to be born alone,
Baby tortoise!
The first day to heave your feet little by little from the shell,
Not yet awake,
And remain lapsed on earth,
Not quite alive.

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Beautiful Old Age

© David Herbert Lawrence

It ought to be lovely to be old
to be full of the peace that comes of experience
and wrinkled ripe fulfilment.

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Butterfly

© David Herbert Lawrence

Butterfly, the wind blows sea-ward,
strong beyond the garden-wall!
Butterfly, why do you settle on my
shoe, and sip the dirt on my shoe,
Lifting your veined wings, lifting them?
big white butterfly!

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Belonging

© Eileen Carney Hulme

We never really slept,
just buried clocks
in the sanctuary
of night

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Babylon

© Ralph Hodgson

If you could bring her glories back!

You gentle sirs who sift the dust

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Barnacles

© Sidney Lanier

My soul is sailing through the sea,
But the Past is heavy and hindereth me.
The Past hath crusted cumbrous shells
That hold the flesh of cold sea-mells

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Baby Charley.

© Sidney Lanier

He's fast asleep. See how, O Wife,
Night's finger on the lip of life
Bids whist the tongue, so prattle-rife,
Of busy Baby Charley.

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Badger

© John Clare

When midnight comes a host of dogs and men
Go out and track the badger to his den,
And put a sack within the hole, and lie
Till the old grunting badger passes by.

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Bob's Lane

© Edward Thomas

Women he liked, did shovel-bearded Bob,
Old Farmer Hayward of the Heath, but he
Loved horses. He himself was like a cob
And leather-coloured. Also he loved a tree.

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Beauty

© Edward Thomas

WHAT does it mean? Tired, angry, and ill at ease,
No man, woman, or child alive could please
Me now. And yet I almost dare to laugh
Because I sit and frame an epitaph--

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Brock: Valiant Leader

© John Daniel Logan

Lo, on the looming crown of that ascent
Where thy life ceased, a loyal host hath reared
To thee–whose patriot heart was pure, nor feared,–
A high commemorative monument!
Still is thy memory green who fell to save,
Still, Brock, art thou the bravest of our brave!

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Batterson Dobyns

© Edgar Lee Masters

Did my widow flit about
From Mackinac to Los Angeles,
Resting and bathing and sitting an hour
Or more at the table over soup and meats

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Ballad of Reading Gaol II

© Oscar Wilde

He did not wear his scarlet coat,
For blood and wine are red,
And blood and wine were on his hands
When they found him with the dead,
The poor dead woman whom he loved,
And murdered in her bed.

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Ballade Of Dead Ladies

© Andrew Lang

Prince, all this week thou need'st not pray,
Nor yet this year the thing to know.
One burden answers, ever and aye,
"Nay, but where is the last year's snow?"

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Bert Kessler

© Edgar Lee Masters

I winged my bird,
Though he flew toward the setting sun;
But just as the shot rang out, he soared
Up and up through the splinters of golden light,

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Beauty that Is Never Old

© James Weldon Johnson

When buffeted and beaten by life's storms,
When by the bitter cares of life oppressed,
I want no surer haven than your arms,
I want no sweeter heaven than your breast.