Poems begining by I

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Italy : 27. The Pilgrim

© Samuel Rogers

It was an hour of universal joy.
The lark was up and at the gate of heaven,
Singing, as sure to enter when he came;
The butterfly was basking in my path,

I Went into the Maverick Bar

© Gary Snyder

I went into the Maverick Bar
In Farmington, New Mexico.
And drank double shots of bourbon
backed with beer.
My long hair was tucked up under a cap
I’d left the earring in the car.

If Christ Came Questioning

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

If Christ came questioning His world to-day,
(If Christ came questioning,)
'What hast thou done to glorify thy God,
Since last My feet this lower earth plane trod?'

In the Valley of Cauteretz

© Alfred Tennyson

All along the valley, stream that flashest white,

In Rubble

© David Wagoner

Right after the bomb, even before the ceiling

And walls and floor are rearranging

II. Elliott In Fort Sumter

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

AND high amongst these chiefs of iron grain,
Large-statured natures, souls of Spartan mien,
Superbly brave, inflexibly serene,
Man of the, stalwart hope, the sleepless brain,

In Memory of Bryan Lathrop

© Edgar Lee Masters

Who bequeathed to Chicago a School of Music.

So in Pieria, from the wedded bliss

In Ecstasy

© Erin Belieu

No need to be coy—
you know what
she’s doing

Relentlessly the wind blows on. Next door
catching a scent, the dogs begin to howl.
Lean, furious, raw-eyed from the storm,
packs of coyotes come down from the hills
where there is nothing left to hunt.

Inscribed

© James Whitcomb Riley

To the Elect of Love,--or side-by-side
In raptest ecstasy, or sundered wide
By seas that bear no message to or fro
Between the loved and lost of long ago.

[I asked myself / What, Sappho, can...]

© Sappho

I asked myself

What, Sappho, can
you give one who
has everything,
like Aphrodite?

Invocation to the Social Muse

It is true also that we here are Americans:
That we use the machines: that a sight of the god is unusual:
That more people have more thoughts: that there are

Idyll I. The Death of Daphnis

© Theocritus

GOATHERD.
Shepherd, thy lay is as the noise of streams
Falling and falling aye from yon tall crag.
If for their meed the Muses claim the ewe,
Be thine the stall-fed lamb; or if they choose
The lamb, take thou the scarce less-valued ewe.