Poems begining by I
/ page 60 of 145 /
Italy : 20. Marcolini
© Samuel Rogers
It was midnight; the great clock had struck, and was
still echoing through every porch and gallery in the
quarter of St. Mark, when a young Citizen, wrapped
in his cloak, was hastening home under it from an interview
In Memoriam A. H. H.: 118.
© Alfred Tennyson
Who throve and branch'd from clime to clime,
The herald of a higher race,
And of himself in higher place,
If so he type this work of time
'I Cannot Forget with what Fervid Devotion'
© William Cullen Bryant
I cannot forget with what fervid devotion
I worshipped the vision of verse and of fame.
Each gaze at the glories of earth, sky, and ocean,
To my kindled emotions, was wind over flame.
In Kerry
© John Millington Synge
We heard the thrushes by the shore and sea,
And saw the golden star's nativity,
Then round we went the lane by Thomas Flynn,
Across the church where bones lie out and in;
"I have two wings"
© Lesbia Harford
I have two wings
To raise me to the skies.
Withouten these
My soul could never rise.
I Dug And Dug Amongst The Snow
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
I dug and dug amongst the snow,
And thought the flowers would never grow;
In The Round Tower At Jhansi
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
A hundred, a thousand to one; even so;
Not a hope in the world remained:
The swarming howling wretches below
Gained and gained and gained.
It struck meevery Day
© Emily Dickinson
It struck meevery Day
The Lightning was as new
As if the Cloud that instant slit
And let the Fire through
I Saw, Or Dreamed I Saw
© Henry Timrod
I saw, or dreamed I saw, her sitting lone,
Her neck bent like a swan's, her brown eyes thrown
I Wander O'er The Sandy Heath
© Walter Savage Landor
I wander o'er the sandy heath
Where the white rush waves high,
it was once called
© Rg Gregory
it comes like a convict
squeezing through bars
and is gone before
the promptest siren
in search of milk and paradise
© Rg Gregory
puddles idle in
the dips of surfaces
neglected for decades
i'm going to give up loving you
© Rg Gregory
i'm going to give up loving you
i'm going to hate you instead
living's so difficult difficult baby
hating's like staying in bed
images of snow - february 1996
© Rg Gregory
snow is a thousand flowers
the chinese probably said
hundreds and thousands this morning
drop their garlands on my head
last night the festoons started
long before we went to bed
Is qadar musalsal thin
© Ahmad Faraz
is qadar musalsal thin shidaten judai ki
aj pahali bar us sa main ne bevafai ki
Insensibility
© Wilfred Owen
IHappy are men who yet before they are killed
Can let their veins run cold.
Whom no compassion fleers
Or makes their feet
In memory of that excellent person Mrs. Mary Lloyd of Bodidrist in Denbigh-shire
© Katherine Philips
I CANNOT hold, for though to write were rude,
Yet to be silent were Ingratitude,
And Folly too; for if Posterity
Should never hear of such a one as thee,
In Memory of F.P.
© Katherine Philips
If I could ever write a lasting verse,
It should be laid, deare Sainte, upon thy herse.
But Sorrow is no muse, and doth confesse
That it least can what most it would expresse.
