Poems begining by I
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"I loved you first: but afterwards your love"
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Poca favilla gran fiamma seconda. Dante
Ogni altra cosa, ogni pensier va fore,
It Couldn’t Be Done
© Edgar Albert Guest
Somebody said that it couldn’t be done
But he with a chuckle replied
I Go Back to May 1937
© Sharon Olds
I see them standing at the formal gates of their colleges,
I see my father strolling out
I Shall Be Married on Monday Morning
© Pierre Reverdy
As I was walking one morning in spring,
I heard a fair maiden most charmingly sing,
All under her cow, as she sat a-milking,
Saying, I shall be married, next Monday morning.
In the Winter of My Thirty-Eighth Year
© William Stanley Merwin
It sounds unconvincing to say When I was young
Though I have long wondered what it would be like
To be me now
No older at all it seems from here
As far from myself as ever
"I wish I could remember that first day"
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Era gia lora che volge il desio. Dante
Ricorro al tempo chio vi vidi prima. Petrarca
I Sing the Body Electric
© Walt Whitman
1
I sing the body electric,
The armies of those I love engirth me and I engirth them,
They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them,
And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the soul.
Incident
© Natasha Trethewey
We tell the story every year—
how we peered from the windows, shades drawn—
In Goya’s Greatest Scenes We Seem to See . . .
© Gaius Valerius Catullus
In Goya’s greatest scenes we seem to see
the people of the world
In Love, His Grammar Grew
© Stephen Dunn
In love, his grammar grew
rich with intensifiers, and adverbs fell
Immortal Autumn
© Archibald MacLeish
I praise the fall: it is the human season.
Now
No more the foreign sun does meddle at our earth,
Enforce the green and bring the fallow land to birth,
Nor winter yet weigh all with silence the pine bough,
Innocents We
© Paul Verlaine
Their long skirts and high heels battled away:
Depending on the ground’s and breezes’ whim,
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 82
© Alfred Tennyson
I wage not any feud with Death
For changes wrought on form and face;
No lower life that earth's embrace
May breed with him, can fright my faith.
It was a' for our Rightful King
© Robert Burns
It was a' for our rightful king
That we left fair Scotland's strand;
It was a' for our rightful king
We e'er saw Irish land,
My dear,
We e'er saw Irish land.
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 78
© Alfred Tennyson
Again at Christmas did we weave
The holly round the Christmas hearth;
The silent snow possess'd the earth,
And calmly fell our Christmas-eve:
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 54
© Alfred Tennyson
Oh, yet we trust that somehow good
Will be the final end of ill,
To pangs of nature, sins of will,
Defects of doubt, and taints of blood;
In California: Morning, Evening, Late January
© Denise Levertov
Pale, then enkindled,
light
advancing,
emblazoning
summits of palm and pine,
