Poems begining by I

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I could bring You Jewelshad I a mind to

© Emily Dickinson

I could bring You Jewelshad I a mind to
But You have enoughof those
I could bring You Odors from St. Domingo
Colorsfrom Vera Cruz

It's A Queer Time

© Robert Graves

It's hard to know if you're alive or dead

When steel and fire go roaring through your head.

In An Underground Dressing Station

He gripped the stretcher; stiffened; glared; and screamed,
"O put my leg down, doctor, do!" (He'd got
A bullet in his ankle; and he'd been shot
Horribly through the guts.) The surgeon seemed
So kind and gentle, saying, above that crying,
"You must keep still, my lad." But he was dying.

Ideals

© Edgar Albert Guest

Better than land or gold or trade

Are a high ideal and a purpose true;

It Is The Printer's Fault

© Eugene Field

In Mrs. Potter's latest play
The costuming is fine;
Her waist is made decollete--
Her skirt is new design.

It was you, Atthis, who said

© Sappho

It was you, Atthis, who said
"Sappho, if you will not get
up and let us look at you
I shall never love you again!

In The Beginning

© Harriet Monroe

WHEN sunshine met the wave,
Then love was born;
Then Venus rose to save
A world forlorn.

In Hospital

© Edith Nesbit

Under the shadow of a hawthorn brake,

Where bluebells draw the sky down to the wood,

IX. O Poverty! though from thy haggard eye...

© William Lisle Bowles

O POVERTY! though from thy haggard eye,

Thy cheerless mein, of every charm bereft,

Is This Thy Kindness To Thy Friend (Christ A Redeemer And Friend)

© John Newton

Poor, weak and worthless though I am
I have a rich almighty friend;
Jesus, the Saviour, is His Name;
He freely loves, and without end.

Indian Love Song

© Sarojini Naidu

LIKE a serpent to the calling voice of flutes,
Glides my heart into thy fingers, O my Love!
Where the night-wind, like a lover, leans above
His jasmine-gardens and sirisha-bowers;
And on ripe boughs of many-coloured fruits
Bright parrots cluster like vermilion flowers.

Indian Dancer

© Sarojini Naidu

EYES ravished with rapture, celestially panting, what passionate bosoms aflaming with fire
Drink deep of the hush of the hyacinth heavens that glimmer around them in fountains of light;
O wild and entrancing the strain of keen music that cleaveth the stars like a wail of desire,
And beautiful dancers with houri-like faces bewitch the voluptuous watches of night.