Poems begining by I
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In The Beginning
© Dylan Thomas
In the beginning was the three-pointed star,
One smile of light across the empty face,
One bough of bone across the rooting air,
The substance forked that marrowed the first sun,
And, burning ciphers on the round of space,
Heaven and hell mixed as they spun.
I See The Boys Of Summer
© Dylan Thomas
I see the boys of summer in their ruin
Lay the gold tithings barren,
Setting no store by harvest, freeze the soils;
There in their heat the winter floods
Of frozen loves they fetch their girls,
And drown the cargoed apples in their tides.
In My Craft Or Sullen Art
© Dylan Thomas
In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
I Have Longed To Move Away
© Dylan Thomas
I have longed to move away
From the hissing of the spent lie
And the old terrors' continual cry
Growing more terrible as the day
If I Were Tickled By the Rub of Love
© Dylan Thomas
If I were tickled by the rub of love,
A rooking girl who stole me for her side,
Broke through her straws, breaking my bandaged string,
If the red tickle as the cattle calve
Its little Ether Hood
© Emily Dickinson
Its little Ether Hood
Doth sit upon its Head --
The millinery supple
Of the sagacious God --
Its Hour with itself
© Emily Dickinson
Its Hour with itself
The Spirit never shows.
What Terror would enthrall the Street
Could Countenance disclose
It's thoughts -- and just One Heart
© Emily Dickinson
It's thoughts -- and just One Heart --
And Old Sunshine -- about --
Make frugal -- Ones -- Content --
And two or three -- for Company --
Upon a Holiday --
Crowded -- as Sacrament --
It's like the Light
© Emily Dickinson
It's like the Light --
A fashionless Delight --
It's like the Bee --
A dateless -- Melody --
It's easy to invent a Life --
© Emily Dickinson
It's easy to invent a Life --
God does it -- every Day --
Creation -- but the Gambol
Of His Authority --
It's coming -- the postponeless Creature
© Emily Dickinson
It's coming -- the postponeless Creature --
It gains the Block -- and now -- it gains the Door --
Chooses its latch, from all the other fastenings --
Enters -- with a "You know Me -- Sir"?
It would not know if it were spurned,
© Emily Dickinson
It would not know if it were spurned,
This gallant little flower --
How therefore safe to be a flower
If one would tamper there.
It would never be Common -- more -- I said
© Emily Dickinson
It would never be Common -- more -- I said --
Difference -- had begun --
Many a bitterness -- had been --
But that old sort -- was done --
It would have starved a Gnat --
© Emily Dickinson
It would have starved a Gnat --
To live so small as I --
And yet I was a living Child --
With Food's necessity
It will be Summer -- eventually.
© Emily Dickinson
It will be Summer -- eventually.
Ladies -- with parasols --
Sauntering Gentlemen -- with Canes --
And little Girls -- with Dolls --
It was not Saint -- it was too large --
© Emily Dickinson
It was not Saint -- it was too large --
Nor Snow -- it was too small --
It only held itself aloof
Like something spiritual --
It was given to me by the Gods
© Emily Dickinson
It was given to me by the Gods --
When I was a little Girl --
They given us Presents most -- you know --
When we are new -- and small.
It was a quiet way --
© Emily Dickinson
It was a quiet way --
He asked if I was his --
I made no answer of the Tongue
But answer of the Eyes --
It was a quiet seeming Day --
© Emily Dickinson
It was a quiet seeming Day --
There was no harm in earth or sky --
Till with the closing sun
There strayed an accidental Red
A Strolling Hue, one would have said
To westward of the Town --
It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone
© Emily Dickinson
It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone
Enclosed 'twas not of Rail
A Consciousness its Acre, and
It held a Human Soul.
