Poems begining by I
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In Examination
© Rupert Brooke
Lo! from quiet skies
In through the window my Lord the Sun!
And my eyes
Were dazzled and drunk with the misty gold,
I took my lyre and said
© Sappho
I took my lyre and said:
Come now, my heavenly
tortoise shell: become
a speaking instrument
I. Peace
© Rupert Brooke
Oh! we, who have known shame, we have found release there,
Where there's no ill, no grief, but sleep has mending,
Naught broken save this body, lost but breath;
Nothing to shake the laughing heart's long peace there
But only agony, and that has ending;
And the worst friend and enemy is but Death.
II. Safety
© Rupert Brooke
Dear! of all happy in the hour, most blest
He who has found our hid security,
Assured in the dark tides of the world that rest,
And heard our word, `Who is so safe as we?'
Iris, Her Book
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
I PRAY thee by the soul of her that bore thee,
By thine own sister's spirit I implore thee,
Deal gently with the leaves that lie before thee!
i wrote a life
© Billy John Hope
this might be the swan song
i have traveled beyond misty mountains
spilled my seed on the hungry rock
hallowed days
In the ember days of my last free summer
© Benjamin Jonson
In the ember days of my last free summer,
here I lie, outside myself, watching
the gross body eating a poor curry:
satisfied at what I have done, scared of what
I have to do in my last free winter.
In My Mind
© James Baker
There's only so much light
When you turn out the dark.
There's only so much glow
When you look at the stars.
There's only so much distance
When you live so far.
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair
© Pablo Neruda
Don't go far off, not even for a day
Don't go far off, not even for a day,
Because I don't know how to say it - a day is long
And I will be waiting for you, as in
An empty station when the trains are
Parked off somewhere else, asleep.
Instability of Human Greatness
© Phineas Fletcher
Fond man, that looks on earth for happiness,
And here long seeks what here is never found!
In Praise of New Netherland
© Jacob Steendam
"You poor, who know not how your living to obtain;
You affluent, who seek in mind to be content;
Choose you New Netherland, which no one shall disdain;
Before you time and stregth here fruitlessly are spent.
I Like For You To Be Still
© Pablo Neruda
I like for you to be still
It is as though you are absent
And you hear me from far away
And my voice does not touch you
If You Forget Me
© Pablo Neruda
Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You
© Pablo Neruda
I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.
III. O Thou, whose stern command and precepts pure...
© William Lisle Bowles
O THOU, whose stern command and precepts pure
(Tho' agony in every vein should start,
And slowly drain the blood-drops from the heart)
Have bade the patient spirit still endure;
In Winter
© Alice Guerin Crist
Golden and white in the garden walk,
Chrysanthemums gather their bravest show,
Mid withered blossom and wilted stalk
Where never a rosebud dares to blow.
IV. To the River Wenbeck
© William Lisle Bowles
AS slowly wanders thy forsaken stream,
Wenbeck! the mossy-scatter'd rocks among,
In fancy's ear still making plaintive song
To the dark woods above: ah! sure I seem
I. Written at Tinemouth, Northumberland, after a Tempestuous Voyage
© William Lisle Bowles
AS slow I climb the cliff's ascending side,
Much musing on the track of terror past
When o'er the dark wave rode the howling blast
Pleas'd I look back, and view the tranquil tide,
II. Written at Bamborough Castle.
© William Lisle Bowles
YE holy tow'rs, that crown the azure deep,
Still may ye shade the wave-worn rock sublime,
Though, hurrying silent by, relentless Time
Assail you, and the winter Whirlwind's sweep!
In Age
© William Lisle Bowles
And art thou he, now "fallen on evil days,"
And changed indeed! Yet what do this sunk cheek,
These thinner locks, and that calm forehead speak!
A spirit reckless of man's blame or praise,--
