Poems begining by I

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Italy : 24. Florence

© Samuel Rogers

Of all the fairest Cities of the Earth
None is so fair as Florence. 'Tis a gem
Of purest ray; and what a light broke forth,
When it emerged from darkness! Search within,

In France

© Frances Darwin Cornford

THE poplars in the fields of France
Are golden ladies come to dance ;
But yet to see them there is none
But I and the September sun.

I'm Off'n Wild Wimmen

© Ernest Hemingway

I'm off'n wild wimmen
An Cognac
An Sinnin'
For I'm in loOOOOOOOve.

In Memoriam 16: I envy not in any moods

© Alfred Tennyson

I envy not in any moods
The captive void of noble rage,
The linnet born within the cage,
That never knew the summer woods:

In The Downhill Of Life

© William Taylor Collins

In the downhill of life, when I find Im declining,

May my lot no less fortunate be

Immortal

© Sara Teasdale

So soon my body will have gone

Beyond the sound and sight of men,

"I dreamt last night of happy home-comings"

© Lesbia Harford

I dreamt last night of happy home-comings.
Friends I had loved and had believed were dead
Came happily to visit me and said
I was a part of their fair home-coming

In The Pine Barrens. Sunset.

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

HARK! to the mournful wind; its burden drear
Borne over leagues of desert wild and dun,
Sinks to a weary cadence of despair,
Beyond the closing gateways of the sun.

I'm the little

© Emily Dickinson

I'm the little "Heart's Ease"!
I don't care for pouting skies!
If the Butterfly delay
Can I, therefore, stay away?

In Hours Of Ebbing Tide

© Aleksey Konstantinovich Tolstoy

In hours of ebbing tide, oh trust not to the Sea!
It will come back to shore with redness of the morrow;
O don't believe in me when in the trance of sorrow
I swear I am no longer true to thee!

I Smoke My Pipe

© James Whitcomb Riley

I can't extend to every friend

In need a helping hand--

Inter Vias

© Archibald Lampman

'Tis a land where no hurricane falls,

But the infinite azure regards

Insects In Summer

© James Thomson

Waked by his warmer ray, the reptile young
Came wing'd abroad; by the light air upborne
Lighter, and full of soul. From every chink
And secret corner, where they slept away

I Said It To You

© Paul Eluard

I said it to you for the clouds
I said it to you for the tree of the sea
For each wave for the birds in the leaves
For the pebbles of sound
For familiar hands

Italy : 11. Bergamo

The song was one that I had heard before,
But where I knew not. It inclined to sadness;
And, turning round from the delicious fare
My landlord's little daughter Barbara

Isabella; Or, The Pot Of Basil: A Story From Boccaccio

© John Keats

I.

Fair Isabel, poor simple Isabel!

In Autumn

© Rubén Dario

I know there are those who ask: Why does he not
sing with the same wild harmonies as before?
But they have not seen the labors of an hour
the work of a minute, the prodigies of a year.