Poems begining by I
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In Our Boat
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Stars trembling o'er us and sunset before us,
Mountains in shadow and forests asleep;
Down the dim river we float on forever,
Speak not, ah, breathe not - there's peace on the deep.
Invita Minerva
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
Not of desire alone is music born,
Not till the Muse wills is our passion crowned;
In the Waters of Purity
© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
In the waters of purity, I melted like salt
Neither blasphemy, nor faith, nor conviction, nor
doubt remained.
In the center of my heart a star has appeared
And all the seven heavens have become lost in it.
'If my head hurt a hair's foot'
© Dylan Thomas
'If my head hurt a hair's foot
Pack back the downed bone. If the unpricked ball of my breath
Bump on a spout let the bubbles jump out.
Sooner drop with the worm of the ropes round my throat
Than bully ill love in the clouted scene.
I Gather Motley Flowers
© Mikhail Alekseevich Kuzmin
I gather motley flowers
And braid, braid a garland,
Sharp spears fall
At your victorious feet.
In The Porch
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
IN this old porch, fast mouldering to decay,
But wreathed in vines and girt by shadowy trees,
All day I hear the dreamful hum of bees,
Soft-rustling foliage, and the fragrant sway
Invitation To Eternity
© John Clare
Say, wilt thou go with me, sweet maid,
Say, maiden, wilt thou go with me
Idyll XVII. The Praise of Ptolemy
© Theocritus
"Wake, babe, to bliss: prize me, as Phoebus doth
His azure-sphered Delos: grace the hill
Of Triops, and the Dorians' sister shores,
As king Apollo his Rhenaea's isle."
Impromptu - To Kate Carol
© Edgar Allan Poe
When from your gems of thought I turn
To those pure orbs, your heart to learn,
I scarce know which to prize most high
The bright i-dea, or the bright dear-eye.
In a Paris Restaurant
© Henry Cuyler Bunner
I gaze, while thrills my heart with patriot pride,
Upon the exquisite skin, rose-flushed and creamy;
The perfect little head; on either side
Blonde waves. The dark eyes, vaguely soft and dreamy,
In Memoriam Matris
© Arthur Patchett Martin
IN my hot youth I rashly penned
A Sonnet of the After-life.
It was the time of stress and strife
Through which the ardent soul must wend.
In The Wood Of Finvara
© Arthur Symons
I have grown tired of sorrow and human tears;
Life is a dream in the night, a fear among fears,
A naked runner lost in a storm of spears.
I have grown tired of rapture and love's desire;
Love is a flaming heart, and its flames aspire
Till they cloud the soul in the smoke of a windy fire.
Insomnia
© Madison Julius Cawein
It seems that dawn will never climb
The eastern hills;
And, clad in mist and flame and rime,
Make flashing highways of the rills.
In Rufum. Catul. Ep. 64
© Richard Lovelace
IN RUFUM. CATUL. EP. 64.
Noli admirari, quare tibi foemina nulla,
Rufe, velit tenerum supposuisse femur;
Non ullam rarae labefactes munere vestis,
Idyll VIII. The Triumph of Daphnis
© Theocritus
MENALCAS.
A lamb I'll venture never: for aye at close of day
Father and mother count the flock, and passing strict are they.
Is it deadFind it
© Emily Dickinson
Is it deadFind it
Out of soundOut of sight
"Happy"? Which is wiser
You, or the Wind?
"Conscious"? Won't you ask that
Of the low Ground?
IV. The Dead
© Rupert Brooke
There are waters blown by changing winds to laughter
And lit by the rich skies, all day. And after,
Frost, with a gesture, stays the waves that dance
And wandering loveliness. He leaves a white
Unbroken glory, a gathered radiance,
A width, a shining peace, under the night.
Indian Summer
© William Wilfred Campbell
Along the line of smoky hills
The crimson forest stands,
And all the day the blue-jay calls
Throughout the autumn lands.
