Poems begining by B
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By Mons. Fontenelle
© Matthew Prior
Ma petite ame, ma mignonne,
Tu t'en vas donc, má fille, et Dieu scache ou tu vas:
Tu pars seulette, nuë, et tremblotante, helas!
Que deviendra ton humeur folichonne?
Que deviendront tant de jolis ébats?
Back from Spain: to Veranius
© Gaius Valerius Catullus
Veranius, first to me of all
my three hundred thousand friends,
Brother Wind
© Alice Guerin Crist
Who wafts from scarce-stirred lily beds
Incense of early purity,
Or wakes to life our laggard souls
With stinging fragrance of the sea.
Book Of the Parsees - The Bequest Of The Ancient Persian Faith
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
BRETHREN, what bequest to you should come
From the lowly poor man, going home,
Whom ye younger ones with patience tended,
Whose last days ye honour'd and defended?
Battle-Scene From the Comic Operatic Fantasy The Seafarer
© Sylvia Plath
It beguiles
This little Odyssey
In pink and lavender
Over a surface of gently-
Benjamin Peirce
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
FOR him the Architect of all
Unroofed our planet's starlit hall;
Through voids unknown to worlds unseen
His clearer vision rose serene.
Bridal Eve
© Edith Nesbit
GOOD-NIGHT, my Heart, my Heart, good-night--
Oh, good and dear and fair,
With lips of life and eyes of light
And roses in your hair.
Butterflies
© Haniel Long
There will be butterflies,
There will be summer skies
And flowers upthrust,
When all that Caesar bids,
And all the pyramids
Are dust.
Beethoven In Central Park
© Alfred Noyes
Then, in a place of whispering leaves and gloom,
I saw, too dark, too dumb for bronze or stone,
One tragic head that bowed against the sky;
O, in a hush too deep for any tomb
I saw Beethoven, dreadfully alone
With his own grief, and his own majesty.
Biddy, Be Kind!
© William Henry Ogilvie
Now what do you want to be playing about for,
Reefing and reaching your head for the bit?
Beautiful River
© Robert Wadsworth Lowry
Shall we gather at the river
Where bright angel feet have trod;
With its crystal tide forever
Flowing by the throne of God?
Biography
© John Masefield
Yet when I am dust my penman may not know
Those water-trampling ships which made me glow,
But think my wonder mad and fail to find,
Their glory, even dimly, from my mind,
And yet they made me:
Bateese The Lucky Man
© William Henry Drummond
He's alway ketchin' doré, an'he 's alway
ketchin' trout
On de place w'ere no wan else can ketch at all
He 's alway ketchin' barbotte, dat 's w'at you
call bull-pout,
An' he never miss de wil' duck on de fall.
Beranger's My Last Song Perhaps (January 1814)
© Eugene Field
When, to despoil my native France,
With flaming torch and cruel sword
Bob Polter
© William Schwenck Gilbert
BOB POLTER was a navvy, and
His hands were coarse, and dirty too,
His homely face was rough and tanned,
His time of life was thirty-two.
Ballade Against The Jesuits
© Andrew Lang
SATAN, that pride did hurry to thy fall,
Thou porter of the grim infernal hall -
Thou keeper of the courts of souls unshriven!
To shun thy shafts, to 'scape thy hellish thrall,
Escobar makes a primrose path to heaven!
Ballade Of The Traffickers
© Franklin Pierce Adams
Take thou my verses, I pray, King,
Letting my guerdon be fair.
Even a bard must be making
All that the traffic will bear.
Bison
© Padraic Colum
How great a front is thine
A lake of majesty!
Assyria knew the sign
The god-incarnate king!
