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The Black Regiment |
George Henry Boker |
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English |
[May 27, 1863]
DARK as the clouds of even,
Ranked in the western heaven,
Waiting the breath that lifts
All the dead mass, and drifts
Tempest and falling brand
Over a ruined land,—
So still and orderly,
Arm to arm, knee to knee,... |
|
The Black Riders |
Stephen Crane |
1891 |
English |
Black riders came from the sea.
There was clang and clang of spear and shield,
And clash and clash of hoof and heel,
Wild shouts and the wave of hair
In the rush upon the wind:
Thus the ride of sin.
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The Blackbird |
Alfred, Lord Tennyson |
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English |
O Blackbird! sing me something well:
While all the neighbors shoot thee round,
I keep smooth plats of fruitful ground,
Where thou may’st warble, eat, and dwell.
The espaliers and the standards all
Are thine; the range of lawn and park:
... |
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The Blazing Heart |
Alice Williams Brotherton |
|
English |
who are ye, spirits, that stand
In the outer gloom,
Each with a blazing heart in hand,
Which lighteth the dark beyond the tomb?
“Oh, we be souls that loved
Too well, too well!
Yet, for that love, though sore reproved,... |
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The Blessed Damozel |
Dante Gabriel Rossetti |
1848 |
Love |
The blessed damozel leaned out
From the gold bar of Heaven;
Her eyes were deeper than the depth
Of waters stilled at even;
She had three lilies in her hand,
And the stars in her hair were seven.
Her robe, ungirt from... |
|
The Blessèd Damozel |
Dante Gabriel Rossetti |
1848 |
English |
The BlessÈd damozel 1 leaned out
From the gold bar of Heaven;
Her eyes were deeper than the depth
Of waters stilled at even,
She had three lilies in her hand,
And the stars in her hair were seven.
Her robe, ungirt from clasp to hem,... |
|
The Blessed Damozel (Dante Gabriel Rossetti) |
|
|
English |
The blessed damozel leaned out
From the gold bar of Heaven;
Her eyes were deeper than the depth
Of waters stilled at even;
She had three lilies in her hand,
... |
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The Blind Psalmist |
Elizabeth Clementine Kinney |
|
English |
He sang the airs of olden times
In soft, low tones to sacred rhymes,
Devotional, but quaint;
His fingers touched the viol’s strings,
And at their gentle vibratings
The glory of an angel’s wings
Hung o’er that aged saint!
His thin,... |
|
The Blood Horse |
Bryan Waller Procter |
|
English |
Gamarra is a dainty steed,
Strong, black, and of a noble breed,
Full of fire, and full of bone,
With all his line of fathers known;
Fine his nose, his nostrils thin,
But blown abroad by the pride within!
His mane is like a river flowing,
... |
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The Blossom (Donne) |
|
|
English |
LITTLE think'st thou, poor flower,
Whom I've watch'd six or seven days,
And seen thy birth, and seen what every hour
Gave to thy growth, thee to this height to raise,
And now dost laugh and triumph on this bough,
... |
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The Blossom of the Soul |
Robert Underwood Johnson |
|
English |
Thou half-unfolded flower
With fragrance-laden heart,
What is the secret power
That doth thy petals part?
What gave thee most thy hue—
The sunshine or the dew?
Thou wonder-wakened soul!
As Dawn doth steal on Night,
On thee... |
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The Blue and the Gray |
Francis Miles Finch |
|
English |
By the flow of the inland river,
Whence the fleets of iron have fled,
Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver,
Asleep are the ranks of the dead:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day;
Under the one, the Blue,... |
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The Blue and the Gray |
Francis Miles Finch |
|
English |
[The women of Columbus, Mississippi, strewed flowers alike on the graves of the Confederate and the National soldiers.]
BY the flow of the inland river,
Whence the fleets of iron have fled,
Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver
Asleep are the ranks of... |
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The Blue-Bird |
Alexander Wilson |
|
English |
When winter’s cold tempests and snows are no more,
Green meadows and brown-furrowed fields reappearing,
The fishermen hauling their shad to the shore,
And cloud-cleaving geese to the Lakes are a-steering;
When first the lone butterfly flits on the wing;... |
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The Bluebell (Anne Brontë) |
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|
|
A fine and subtle spirit dwells
In every little flower,
Each one its own sweet feeling breathes
With more or less of power.
There is a silent eloquence
In every wild bluebell
That fills my softened heart... |
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The Blunder is in estimate. |
|
|
English |
The Blunder is in estimate.
Eternity is there
We say, as of a Station —
Meanwhile he is so near
He joins me in my Ramble —
Divides abode with me —
No Friend have I that so persists
As... |
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The Bobolink is gone — |
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|
English |
The Bobolink is gone —
The Rowdy of the Meadow —
And no one swaggers now but me —
The Presbyterian Birds
Can now resume the Meeting
He boldly interrupted that overflowing Day
When supplicating mercy
... |
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The Bobolinks |
Christopher Pearse Cranch |
|
English |
When nature had made all her birds,
With no more cares to think on,
She gave a rippling laugh, and out
There flew a Bobolinkon.
She laughed again; out flew a mate;
A breeze of Eden bore them
Across the fields of Paradise,
The... |
|
The Bobolinks |
Christopher Pearse Cranch |
|
English |
When Nature had made all her birds,
With no more cares to think on,
She gave a rippling laugh, and out
There flew a Bobolinkon.
She laughed again; out flew a mate;
A breeze of Eden bore them
Across the fields of Paradise,
The... |
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The Body grows without — |
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The Body grows without —
The more convenient way —
That if the Spirit — like to hide
Its Temple stands, alway,
Ajar — secure — inviting —
It never did betray
The Soul that asked its shelter
... |
