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Poems begining by I

 / page 63 of 145 /

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Invention

© Billy Collins

Tonight the moon is a cracker,
with a bite out of it
floating in the night,

I Ask You

© Billy Collins

It gives me time to think
about all that is going on outside--
leaves gathering in corners,
lichen greening the high grey rocks,
while over the dunes the world sails on,
huge, ocean-going, history bubbling in its wake.

In Due Form

© Laura Riding Jackson

I do not doubt you.
I know you love me.
It is a fact of your indoor face,
A true fancy of your muscularity.

If I Were King

© William Ernest Henley

If I were king, my pipe should be premier.
The skies of time and chance are seldom clear,
We would inform them all with bland blue weather.
Delight alone would need to shed a tear,
For dream and deed should war no more together.

I am the Reaper

© William Ernest Henley

I am the Reaper.
All things with heedful hook
Silent I gather.
Pale roses touched with the spring,

I. M. R. T. Hamilton Bruce (1846-1899)

© William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

I See A Woman Making Up

© Luis Benitez

I see a woman any woman making up and change
first she is thinking of something else (because when
a woman
begins to make up she hasn't yet separated this act

If I Could But Forget

© Paul Laurence Dunbar

If I could but forget
The fullness of those first sweet days,
When you burst sun-like thro' the haze
Of unacquaintance, on my sight,

Insomniac

© Maya Angelou

There are some nights when
sleep plays coy,
aloof and disdainful.
And all the wiles

I know why the caged bird sings

© Maya Angelou

A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.

I saw Old General at Bay.

© Walt Whitman

I SAW old General at bay;
(Old as he was, his grey eyes yet shone out in battle like stars;)
His small force was now completely hemm’d in, in his works;
He call’d for volunteers to run the enemy’s lines—a desperate emergency;

In the New Garden in all the Parts.

© Walt Whitman

IN the new garden, in all the parts,
In cities now, modern, I wander,
Though the second or third result, or still further, primitive yet,
Days, places, indifferent—though various, the same,

I Heard You, Solemn-sweet Pipes of the Organ.

© Walt Whitman

I HEARD you, solemn-sweet pipes of the organ, as last Sunday morn I pass’d the
church;
Winds of autumn!—as I walk’d the woods at dusk, I heard your long-stretch’d
sighs, up above, so mournful;

In Former Songs.

© Walt Whitman

1
IN former songs Pride have I sung, and Love, and passionate, joyful Life,
But here I twine the strands of Patriotism and Death.

Inscription.

© Walt Whitman

SMALL is the theme of the following Chant, yet the greatest—namely,
One’s-Self—that wondrous thing a simple, separate person. That, for the use of
the
New World, I sing.

Italian Music in Dakota.

© Walt Whitman

THROUGH the soft evening air enwrinding all,
Rocks, woods, fort, cannon, pacing sentries, endless wilds,
In dulcet streams, in flutes’ and cornets’ notes,
Electric, pensive, turbulent artificial,

I will Take an Egg Out of the Robin’s Nest.

© Walt Whitman

I WILL take an egg out of the robin’s nest in the orchard,
I will take a branch of gooseberries from the old bush in the garden, and go and preach to
the
world;

I was Looking a Long While.

© Walt Whitman

I WAS looking a long while for a clue to the history of the past for myself, and for these
chants—and now I have found it;
It is not in those paged fables in the libraries, (them I neither accept nor reject;)
It is no more in the legends than in all else;

Indications, The.

© Walt Whitman

THE indications, and tally of time;
Perfect sanity shows the master among philosophs;
Time, always without flaw, indicates itself in parts;
What always indicates the poet, is the crowd of the pleasant company of singers, and their

I Thought I was not Alone.

© Walt Whitman

I THOUGHT I was not alone, walking here by the shore,
But the one I thought was with me, as now I walk by the shore,
As I lean and look through the glimmering light—that one has utterly disappeared,
And those appear that perplex me.

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