Poems begining by I
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In These Soft Trinities
© Patricia Goedicke
In an aura of charged air I remember
my poor mother turned into royalty,
my sister and me in bobby socks
It would be neat if with the New Year
© James Russell Lowell
I keep wearing them because they fit so good
and I need them, especially when I love so hard,
where I go up those boulder strewn trails,
where flowers crack rocks in their defiant love for the light.
Intimations Of The Beautiful
© Madison Julius Cawein
The hills are full of prophecies
And ancient voices of the dead;
Of hidden shapes that no man sees,
Pale, visionary presences,
That speak the things no tongue hath said,
No mind hath thought, no eye hath read.
I Will Make You Brooches
© Robert Louis Stevenson
I will make you brooches and toys for your delight
Of bird-song at morning and star-shine at night.
I will make a palace fit for you and me
Of green days in forests and blue days at sea.
I Would Have Wept
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
I would have wept with the beast,
The bird, the blossoming flower,
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 116
© Alfred Tennyson
Is it, then, regret for buried time
That keenlier in sweet April wakes,
And meets the year, and gives and takes
The colours of the crescent prime?
I Am Learning To Abandon the World
© Linda Pastan
I am learning to abandon the world
before it can abandon me.
I Know, I Remember, But How Can I Help You
© Hayden Carruth
The northern lights. I wouldn’t have noticed them
if the deer hadn’t told me
In The Orchard
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
LEAVE go my hands, let me catch breath and see;
Let the dew-fall drench either side of me;
Clear apple-leaves are soft upon that moon
Seen sidelong like a blossom in the tree;
Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon.
In November
© Paul Eluard
Outside the house the wind is howling
and the trees are creaking horribly.
Imitated from Wordsworth
© Robert Fuller Murray
He brought a team from Inversnaid
To play our Third Fifteen,
A man whom none of us had played
And very few had seen.
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 126
© Alfred Tennyson
Love is and was my Lord and King,
And in his presence I attend
To hear the tidings of my friend,
Which every hour his couriers bring.
I am the Living Bread: Meditation Eight: John 6:51
© Edward Taylor
I kening through Astronomy Divine
The Worlds bright Battlement, wherein I spy
A Golden Path my Pensill cannot line,
From that bright Throne unto my Threshold ly.
And while my puzzled thoughts about it pore
I finde the Bread of Life in't at my doore.
Interrupted Meditation
© Robert Hass
Little green involute fronds of fern at creekside.
And the sinewy clear water rushing over creekstone
Italy : 10. Como
© Samuel Rogers
I love to sail along the Larian Lake
Under the shore -- though not to visit Pliny,
To catch him musing in his plane-tree walk,
Or fishing, as he might be, from his window:
Imitations of Horace
© Alexander Pope
While you, great patron of mankind, sustain
The balanc'd world, and open all the main;
Your country, chief, in arms abroad defend,
At home, with morals, arts, and laws amend;
How shall the Muse, from such a monarch steal
An hour, and not defraud the public weal?
In The Harbour: Elegiac Verse
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I.
Peradventure of old, some bard in Ionian Islands,
Walking alone by the sea, hearing the wash of the waves,
Learned the secret from them of the beautiful verse elegiac,
Breathing into his song motion and sound of the sea.
