Poems begining by I
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In Utroque Fidelis
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
ALONG the woods the whispering night-airs swoon,
A single bird-note dies adown the trees,
Clear, pallid, mournful, droops the summer moon,
Dipped in the foam of cloudland's phantom seas;--
Soundless they heave above
The dim, ancestral home that holds my love.
Irelands Vow
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
Come! Liberty, come! we are ripe for thy coming-
Come freshen the hearts where thy rival has trod-
Come, richest and rarest!-come, purest and fairest!-
Come, daughter of Science!-come, gift of the God!
I am a sculptor, a molder of form
© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
I am a sculptor, a molder of form.
In every moment I shape an idol.
Internal Migration: On Being On Tour
© Alan Dugan
As an American traveler I have
to remember not to get actionably mad
In The Forest
© Robert Laurence Binyon
The beeches towering high
Greenly cloud the sky.
The shadows all are green
With living sun unseen.
Inscriptions: III: Whoe'er Thou Art Whose Pat In Summer Lies
© Mark Akenside
Whoe'er thou art whose path in summer lies
Through yonder village, turn thee where the grove
I Have Enchanted All Of Nature
© Fyodor Sologub
I have enchanted all of Nature
And forged each moment's quality.
And what a horrifying freedom
I found in such a sorcery!
Inspiration.
© Robert Crawford
There's a wind that sweeps through the day and night,
And like the lightning goes,
But none have heard the sound of its wings,
And none know whither it blows;
Impromptus
© George Gordon Byron
Along thy sprucest bookshelves shine
The works thou deemest most divine-
The "Art of Cookery,"and mine,
My Murray.
It Weeps In My Heart
© Paul Verlaine
It weeps in my heart
As it rains on the town.
What is this dull smart
Possessing my heart?
In Memoriam A. H. H.: 95
© Alfred Tennyson
While now we sang old songs that peal'd
From knoll to knoll, where, couch'd at ease,
The white kine glimmer'd, and the trees
Laid their dark arms about the field.
I'd Rather Have Habits Than Clothes
© Gelett Burgess
I'd Rather Have Habits Than Clothes,
For that's where my intellect shows.
And as for my hair,
Do you think I should care
To comb it at night with my toes?
I Go Out On The Road Alone
© Mikhail Lermontov
Alone I set out on the road;
The flinty path is sparkling in the mist;
The night is still. The desert harks to God,
And star with star converses.
I Vex Me Not With Brooding On The Years
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
I vex me not with brooding on the years
That were ere I drew breath; why should I then
In Praise Of By-Gone Simplicity
© Confucius
In the old capital they stood,
With yellow fox-furs plain,
Their manners all correct and good,
Speech free from vulgar stain.
Could we go back to Chow's old days,
All would look up to them with praise.
In My Study,
© William Wilfred Campbell
Out over my study,
All ashen and ruddy,
Sinks the December sun;
And high up over
The chimneys soot cove,
The winter night wind has begun.
In Memoriam XV
© Alfred Tennyson
TO-NIGHT the winds begin to rise
And roar from yonder dropping day;
In The Mist
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
MORE fearful grows the hillside way,
The gloom no softening breeze hath kissed!
I glance far upward to the day,
But scarce can catch one faltering ray
From out the mist!
