Poems begining by I
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International Copyright
© James Russell Lowell
IN vain we call old notions fudge,
And bend our conscience to our dealing;
The Ten Commandments will not budge,
And stealing will continue stealing.
It don't sound so terriblequiteas it did
© Emily Dickinson
It don't sound so terriblequiteas it did
I run it over"Dead", Brain, "Dead."
Put it in Latinleft of my school
Seems it don't shriek sounder rule.
In The Harbour: Possibilities
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Where are the Poets, unto whom belong
The Olympian heights; whose singing shafts were sent
In Ambush
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
THE crescent moon, with pallid glow,
Swept backward like a bended bow:
Across, a shaft of phantom light
Thrilled, like an arrow winged for flight.
In The British Museum
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Shafts of light, that poured from the August sun,
Glowed on long red walls of the gallery cool;
Fell upon monstrous visions of ages gone,
Still, smiling Sphinx, winged and bearded Bull.
In An Illuminated Missal
© Charles Kingsley
I would have loved: there are no mates in heaven;
I would be great: there is no pride in heaven;
I Love My Sweet Armenia's...
© Yeghishe Charents
No matter where I am yet I shall not forget our mournful songs,
Shall not forget our steel-lettered books which now have become prayers,
No matter how sharply they pierce my heart our wounds so soaked with blood,
Even then I love my orphaned and my bloodied, dear Armenia.
I like you calm, as if you were absent
© Pablo Neruda
I like you calm, as if you were absent,
and you hear me far-off, and my voice does not touch you.
It seems that your eyelids have taken to flying:
it seems that a kiss has sealed up your mouth.
I Make This In A Warring Absence
© Dylan Thomas
I make a weapon of an ass's skeleton
And walk the warring sands by the dead town.
Cudgel great air, wreck east, and topple sundown,
Storm her sped heart, hang with beheaded veins
Its wringing shell, and let her eyelids fasten.
Destruction, picked by birds, brays through the jaw-bone,
Invocation
© Madison Julius Cawein
They who were fondly fain
To tell what mother pain
Of Nature makes the rain;
Illustration Of A Picture
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
"A SPANISH GIRL IN REVERIE,"
SHE twirled the string of golden beads,
I Am Young
© George Frederick Cameron
I AM young, and men
Who long ago have passed their prime
Would fain have what I have again,
Youth, and it may betime.
"Is There A Bitter Pang For Love Removed"
© Thomas Hood
That love might die with sorrow:I am sorrow;
And she, that loves me tenderest, doth press
Most poison from my cruel lips, and borrow
Only new anguish from the old caress;
Oh, this world's grief
Hath no relief
In Memoriam A. H. H.: 45
© Alfred Tennyson
This use may lie in blood and breath
Which else were fruitless of their due,
Had man to learn himself anew
Beyond the second birth of Death.
I Took His Dreams
© Margaret Widdemer
I TOOK his dreams from him,
Boy-dreams of gold and red,
I gave him sorrows dim,
White grief, instead, . . .
And for a little space
Joy in my careless face.
Invitation
© Sri Aurobindo
With wind and the weather beating round me
Up to the hill and the moorland I go.
Who will come with me? Who will climb with me?
Wade through the brook and tramp through the snow?
Inspection
© Wilfred Owen
'You! What d'you mean by this?' I rapped.
'You dare come on parade like this?'
'Please, sir, it's-' ''Old yer mouth,' the sergeant snapped.
'I takes 'is name, sir?'-'Please, and then dismiss.'
I'm cededI've stopped being Theirs
© Emily Dickinson
Baptized, before, without the choice,
But this time, consciously, of Grace
Unto supremest name
Called to my FullThe Crescent dropped
Existence's whole Arc, filled up,
With one small Diadem.
Iris By Night
© Robert Frost
One misty evening, one another's guide,
We two were groping down a Malvern side
Inscription, In The Parsonage, Bemerton, To My Successor
© George Herbert
If thou chance for to find
A new house to thy mind
And built without thy cost:
Be good to the poor,
As God gives thee store,
And then my labour's not lost.
