BE-TIMES............1 And who is she, be-times abroad, Idiot Boy
BEAD................1 And never learnt a prayer, nor told a bead, Foster-Mother
BEAM................1 With lusty arm. You know that huge round beam Foster-Mother
BEAMS...............2 Her beams bemock'd the sultry main Ancyent Marinere IV By the first beams of dawning light impress'd, Female Vagrant
BEAR................1 A day it was when I could bear Anecdote for Fathers
BEARD...............2 "By thy long grey beard and thy glittering eye Ancyent Marinere I Whose beard with age is hoar, Ancyent Marinere VII
BEAST...............1 Both man and bird and beast. Ancyent Marinere VII
BEASTS..............1 Ne shapes of men ne beasts we ken -- Ancyent Marinere I
BEAT................5 The wedding-guest here beat his breast, Ancyent Marinere I The wedding-guest he beat his breast Ancyent Marinere I Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud) Ancyent Marinere III Till the balls like pulses beat; Ancyent Marinere IV Beat round, to sweep the streets of want and pain. Female Vagrant
BEATINGS............1 Have hung upon the beatings of my heart, Tintern Abbey
BEAUTEOUS...........8 The beauty still more beauteous. Nor, that time, Yew-Tree near Esthwaite O beauteous birds! methinks ye measure Lewti O beauteous birds! 'tis such a pleasure Lewti A beauteous heap, a hill of moss, The Thorn So fresh in all its beauteous dyes, The Thorn This pond and beauteous hill of moss, The Thorn But then the beauteous hill of moss The Thorn Mishapes the beauteous forms of things; Tables Turned
BEAUTIFUL...........1 The many men so beautiful Ancyent Marinere IV
BEAUTY..............8 Their beauty might declare: Ancyent Marinere IV The beauty still more beauteous. Nor, that time, Yew-Tree near Esthwaite Drinks in as deep a flush of beauty! Lewti -- Her beauty made me glad. We Are Seven By the benignant touch of love and beauty. Dungeon My beauty, little child, is flown; Mad Mother These forms of beauty have not been to me, Tintern Abbey With quietness and beauty, and so feed Tintern Abbey
BEAUTY'S............1 His limbs are cast in beauty's mould, Anecdote for Fathers
BECAME..............5 So he became a very learned youth. Foster-Mother And what became of him? Foster-Mother Thou seest, and he would gaze till it became Yew-Tree near Esthwaite To cruel injuries he became a prey, Female Vagrant For what became of this poor child The Thorn
BECAUSE.............3 Because he knows, a frightful fiend Ancyent Marinere VI As if because her tale was at an end Female Vagrant She wept; -- because she had no more to say Female Vagrant
BECOME..............3 "Oh saints! what is become of him? Idiot Boy "Alas! what is become of them? Idiot Boy In body, and become a living soul: Tintern Abbey
BED................15 O'er its soft bed of verdure. All is still, Nightingale And startle from their reedy bed. Lewti To lisp, he made me kneel beside my bed, Female Vagrant All but the bed where his old body lay, Female Vagrant The fields I for my bed have often used: Female Vagrant For very cold to go to bed, Goody Blake She left her fire, or left her bed, Goody Blake "In bed she moaning lay, We Are Seven The leaves that make the softest bed: Mad Mother There's scarce a soul that's out of bed; Idiot Boy Old Susan lies a bed in pain, Idiot Boy Cried Betty, rising from the bed, Idiot Boy And, grumbling, he went back to bed. Idiot Boy She turned, she toss'd herself in bed, Idiot Boy Did Susan rise up from her bed, Idiot Boy
BEDIMS..............1 If, while a half-slumber his memory bedims, Convict
BEDS................1 I heard my neighbors, in their beds, complain Female Vagrant
BEE.................1 What if these barren boughs the bee not loves; Yew-Tree near Esthwaite
BEEN...............20 We had been choked with soot. Ancyent Marinere II It had been strange, even in a dream Ancyent Marinere V Like one that hath been seven days drown'd Ancyent Marinere VII O Wedding-guest! this soul hath been Ancyent Marinere VII He went, like one that hath been stunn'd Ancyent Marinere VII 'Tis more like heaven to come than what has been. Foster-Mother Poet, who hath been building up the rhyme Nightingale We have been loitering long and pleasantly, Nightingale How it could ever have been young, The Thorn The work had woven been, The Thorn In distant countries I have been, Last of the Flock My love for thee has well been tried: Mad Mother "Or sadly he has been misled, Idiot Boy "If Susan had not been so ill, Idiot Boy What they've been doing all this time, Idiot Boy I to the muses have been bound, Idiot Boy "Where all this long night you have been, Idiot Boy For in the moon light he had been Idiot Boy "Who, from a sea-fight has been brought to Falmouth, Old Man Travelling These forms of beauty have not been to me, Tintern Abbey
