Brittle and bent like a bow
Bronze-green beetles tumbled over stones, and lay helpless on their backs with the air of an elderly clergyman knocked down by an omnibus
Brown as the sweet smelling loam
Brute terrors like the scurrying of rats in a deserted attic
Buried in his library like a mouse in a cheese
Burns like a living coal in the soul
But across it, like a mob's menace, fell the thunder
But thou art fled, like some frail exhalation
Butterflies like gems