Poems begining by I

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The last seared drifts are eating fast away
With glassy tinkle into glittering laces:
Dogs lie asleep, and little children play
With tops and marbles in the sun-bare places;
And I that stroll with many a thoughtful pause
Almost forget that winter ever was.

Invocation

© Bert Leston Taylor

O Comic Spirit, hovering overhead,
With sage's brows and finely-tempered smile,
Prom whose bowed lips a silvery laugh
is sped
At pedantry, stupidity, and guile,

Inscribenda Luparae

© Andrew Marvell

Consurgit Luparae Dum non imitabile culmen,
Escuriale ingens uritur in vidia.

Introduction: The Bad Child's Book of Beasts

© Hilaire Belloc

I call you bad, my little child,
Upon the title page,
Because a manner rude and wild
Is common at your age.

I've Heard The Rushing

© James Clerk Maxwell

Ive heard the rushing of mountain torrents, gushing
Down through the rocks, in a cataract of spray,
Onward to the ocean;
Swift seemed their motion,
Till, lost in the desert, they dwindled away.

In Memory of John Fairfax

© Henry Kendall

Because this man fulfilled his days,

Like one who walks with steadfast gaze

Is It Best?

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

O mother who sips sweetened liquors!

Look down at the child on your breast;

In The Forest

© Madison Julius Cawein

One well might deem, among these miles of woods,

Such were the Forests of the Holy Grail,--

Invocation to the Echo of a Sea-shell

© Alaric Alexander Watts

Murmurings from within
Were heard, sonorous cadences, whereby
To his belief the monitor expressed
Mysterious union with its native sea. ~ WORDSWORTH.

I Saw His Round Mouth's Crimson

© Wilfred Owen

[I saw his round mouth's crimson deepen as it fell],
Like a Sun, in his last deep hour;
Watched the magnificent recession of farewell,
Clouding, half gleam, half glower,

Its The Sweet Law Of Men

© Paul Eluard

Its the sweet law of men
They make wine from grapes
They make fire from coal
They make men from kisses

Invictus: The Unconquerable

© William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

Introduction to an Album

© John Henry Newman

I am a harp of many chords, and each

Strung by a separate hand;most musical

In The Servants' Quarters

© Thomas Hardy

'Man, you too, aren't you, one of these rough followers of the criminal?
All hanging hereabout to gather how he's going to bear
Examination in the hall.' She flung disdainful glances on
The shabby figure standing at the fire with others there,
Who warmed them by its flare.

I Bended Unto Me A Bough of May

I bended unto me a bough of May,

That I might see and smell:

Ibtida-e-ishq hai

ibtida-e-ishq hai rota hai kya

age age dekhiye hota hai kya

Idyll XIII. Hylas

© Theocritus

Not for us only, Nicias, (vain the dream,)
Sprung from what god soe'er, was Eros born:
Not to us only grace doth graceful seem,
Frail things who wot not of the coming morn.
No--for Amphitryon's iron-hearted son,
Who braved the lion, was the slave of one:--