Poems begining by I
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Instantane
© Arthur Symons
TO DONNA MARIA GALLESE
To a lady with golden hair on seeing her with flowers in winter
In A Kentish Rose Garden
© Mathilde Blind
Beside a Dial in the leafy close,
Where every bush was burning with the Rose,
With million roses falling flake by flake
Upon the lawn in fading summer snows:
Inspiration
© Samuel Johnson
LIFE of Ages, richly poured,
Love of God, unspent and free,
Flowing in the Prophets word
And the Peoples liberty!
In Memoriam
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
Yet not of these I muse
In this ancestral place,
But of a kindred face
That never joy or hope shall here diffuse.
In A Railroad Station
© Sara Teasdale
We stood in the shrill electric light,
Dumb and sick in the whirling din
We who had all of love to say
And a single second to say it in.
In A Letter To C. P. Esq. In Imitation Of Shakspeare
© William Cowper
Trust me the meed of praise, dealt thriftily
From the nice scale of judgement, honours more
Italy : 15. Luigi
© Samuel Rogers
Happy is he who loves companionship,
And lights on thee, Luigi. Thee I found,
Playing at Mora on the cabin-roof
With Punchinello. -- 'Tis a game to strike
Impromptu (V)
© Frances Anne Kemble
Whatever else I see, I still see thee,
I shut my eyes to see nought else but thee.
In Oblivion
© Peter McArthur
COME, friend, there's going to be a merry meeting
After the play. Our masks we'll throw aside,
Interior
© Padraic Colum
THE little moths are creeping
Across the cottage pane;
On the floor the chickens gather,
And they make talk and complain.
Insolent Storm Strikes At The Skull
© Sylvia Plath
Insolent storm strikes at the skull,
assaults the sleeping citadel,
knocking the warden to his knees
in impotence, to sue for peace,
In The Day's When We Are Dead
© Henry Lawson
We wrote of a world that was human
And we wrote of blood that was red,
For a child, or a man, or a woman
Remember when we are dead.
Infanta Marina
© Wallace Stevens
She made of the motions of her wrist
The grandiose gestures
Of her thought.
It will be Summereventually
© Emily Dickinson
It will be Summereventually.
Ladieswith parasols
Sauntering Gentlemenwith Canes
And little Girlswith Dolls
Inscription In A Beautiful Retreat Called Fairy Bower
© Hannah More
Airy spirits, you who love
Cooling bower, or shady grove;
Streams that murmur as they flow,
Zephyrs bland that softly blow;
In The Rose Garden
© Edith Nesbit
RED roses bright, pink roses and white
That bud and blossom and fall;
