Poems begining by I
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I Will Smile No More
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
No, I will smile no more. Love's touch of pleasure
Shall be as tears to me, fair words as gall,
The sun as blackness, friends as a false measure,
And Spring's blithe pageant on this earthly ball,
If it should brag, shall earn from me no praise
But silence only to my end of days.
In August
© Katharine Lee Bates
BESIDE the country road with truant grace
Wild carrot lifts its circles of white lace.
In A Graveyard
© John Hay
In the dewy depths of the graveyard
I lie in the tangled grass,
And watch, in the sea of azure,
The white cloud-islands pass.
Idyll III. The Serenade
© Theocritus
[_Sings_] Hippomenes, when he a maid would wed,
Took apples in his hand and on he sped.
Famed Atalanta's heart was won by this;
She marked, and maddening sank in Love's abyss.
In Beechwood Cemetery
© Archibald Lampman
Here the dead sleep-the quiet dead. No sound
Disturbs them ever, and no storm dismays.
Winter mid snow caresses the tired ground,
And the wind roars about the woodland ways.
In the wave-strike over unquiet stones
© Pablo Neruda
In the wave-strike over unquiet stones
the brightness bursts and bears the rose
and the ring of water contracts to a cluster
to one drop of azure brine that falls.
If I Were A Monk, And If Thou Wert A Nun
© George MacDonald
If I were a monk, and thou wert a nun,
Pacing it wearily, wearily,
Twixt chapel and cell till day were done-
Wearily, wearily-
How would it fare with these hearts of ours
That need the sunshine, and smiles, and flowers?
In The Black Rock Tavern by Judith Slater: American Life in Poetry #36 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureat
© Ted Kooser
running a crane on an overhead track in the mill.
Eight hours a day moving ingots into rollers.
Sometimes without a break
because of the bother of getting down.
Never had an accident.
Never hurt anyone. He had that much control.
Italy : 28. An Interview
© Samuel Rogers
Pleasure, that comes unlooked-for, is thrice-welcome;
And, if it stir the heart, if aught be there,
That may hereafter in a thoughtful hour
Wake but a sigh, 'tis treasured up among
In The Evil Days
© John Greenleaf Whittier
THE evil days have come, the poor
Are made a prey;
Bar up the hospitable door,
Put out the fire-lights, point no more
Inspiration
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
At the golden gate of song
Stood I, knocking all day long,
But the Angel, calm and cold,
Still refused and bade me, "Hold."
In War-Time: An Aspiration Of The Spirit
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
Lord Jesus, as a little child,
Upon some high ascension day
When a great people goes to pay
Allegiance, and the tumult wild
Indignation Of A High-Minded Spaniard
© William Wordsworth
WE can endure that He should waste our lands,
Despoil our temples, and by sword and flame
I had not mindedWalls
© Emily Dickinson
I had not mindedWalls
Were Universeone Rock
And fr I heard his silver Call
The other side the Block
In February
© Alice Meynell
To all the miles and miles of unsprung wheat,
And to the Spring waiting beyond the portal,
And to the future of my own young art,
And, among all these things, to you, my sweet,
My friend, to your calm face and the immortal
Child tarrying all your life-time in your heart.
In The Country English Translation
© Rabindranath Tagore
Here I get him closest to my heart -
As close is the earth beneath my feet
In The Habour: Victor And Vanquished
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
As one who long hath fled with panting breath
Before his foe, bleeding and near to fall,
In The Harbour: Autumn Within
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
It is autumn; not without
But within me is the cold.
Youth and spring are all about;
It is I that have grown old.
