Poems begining by B

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Bitter For Sweet

© Christina Georgina Rossetti

Summer is gone with all its roses,
Its sun and perfumes and sweet flowers,
Its warm air and refreshing showers:
And even Autumn closes.

Beauty's Metempsychosis

© William Watson

That beauty such as thine
Can die indeed,
Were ordinance too wantonly malign:
No wit may reconcile so cold a creed
With beauty such as thine.

Blind Sorrow

© George MacDonald

"My life is drear; walking I labour sore;
The heart in me is heavy as a stone;
And of my sorrows this the icy core:
Life is so wide, and I am all alone!"

Battle Of Corruna

© William Lisle Bowles

The tide of fate rolls on!--heart-pierced and pale,

The gallant soldier lies, nor aught avail,

By The Seaside : The Secret Of The Sea

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Ah! what pleasant visions haunt me
As I gaze upon the sea!
All the old romantic legends,
All my dreams, come back to me.

Save grit and generosity of hearts that broke and healed again
The hottest drought that ever blazed could never parch the hearts of men;
And they were men in spite of all, and they were straight, and they were true,
The hat went round at troubles call, in Ninety-one and Ninety-two.

Between Going and Staying

© Octavio Paz

Bring Flowers

© Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Bring flowers, young flowers, for the festal board,
To wreathe the cup ere the wine is pour'd;
Bring flowers! they are springing in wood and vale,
Their breath floats out on the southern gale,
And the touch of the sunbeam hath waked the rose,
To deck the hall where the bright wine flows.

Ballade

© Antoinette du Ligier de la Garde Deshoulières

À caution tous amants sont sujets:

Cette maxime en ma tête est écrite.

Buckle In

© Edgar Albert Guest

JUST about the time the clouds are blackest

Let your thoughts go roving to the sun,

Bearing The Light

© Denise Levertov

Rain-diamonds, this winter morning, embellish the tangle of unpruned pear-tree twigs; each solitaire, placed, it appearrs, with considered judgement, bears the light beneath the rifted clouds - the indivisible shared out in endless abundance

Boy With His Hair Cut Short

© Muriel Rukeyser

SUNDAY shuts down on this twentieth-century evening.
The L passes. Twilight and bulb define
the brown room, the overstuffed plum sofa,
the boy, and the girl's thin hands above his head.
A neighbor radio sings stocks, news, serenade.

By The Fireside : Tegner's Death (Tegner's Drapa)

I heard a voice, that cried,
"Balder the Beautiful
Is dead, is dead!"
And through the misty air
Passed like the mournful cry
Of sunward sailing cranes.

..But a short time to live"

Our little hour,how swift it flies

When poppies flare and lilies smile;

Before The Dawn

Blacker the night grows ere the dawn be risen,
Keener the cost, and fiercer yet the fight.
But hark! above the thunder and the terror
A trumpet blowing splendid through the night.

Ballad

The Lord's son stood at the clear spring head,

The May on the other side,

Broken Song

Kasinath asks for a rest and the singing stops for a space.
Pratap Ray smilingly turns his eyes to Baraj Lal.
He puts his mouth to his ear and says, 'Dear ustad,
Give us a song as songs ought to be, this is no song at all.
It's all tricks and games, like a cat hunting a bird.
We used to hear songs in the old days, today they have no idea.'