Poems begining by I
/ page 77 of 145 /
If grief for grief can touch thee
© Emily Jane Brontë
If grief for grief can touch thee,
If answering woe for woe,
If any truth can melt thee
Come to me now!
Ianthe! You are Call’d to Cross the Sea
© Heather Fuller
Ianthe! you are call’d to cross the sea!
A path forbidden me!
In Memoriam A. H. H. 7
© Alfred Tennyson
Dark house, by which once more I stand
Here in the long unlovely street,
In My Dreams
© Stevie Smith
In my dreams I am always saying goodbye and riding away,
Whither and why I know not nor do I care.
And the parting is sweet and the parting over is sweeter,
And sweetest of all is the night and the rushing air.
Incantation
© Czeslaw Milosz
Human reason is beautiful and invincible.
No bars, no barbed wire, no pulping of books,
It's the Little Towns I Like
© Thomas Lux
It’s the little towns I like
with their little mills making ratchets
In Memoriam Mae Noblitt
© Archie Randolph Ammons
This is just a place:
we go around, distanced,
yearly in a star’s
Isle Of Wight--Spring, 1891
© Horace Smith
I know not what the cause may be,
Or whether there be one or many;
But this year's Spring has seemed to me
More exquisite than any.
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 95
© Alfred Tennyson
By night we linger'd on the lawn,
For underfoot the herb was dry;
And genial warmth; and o'er the sky
The silvery haze of summer drawn;
In the Reading-Room of the British Museum
© Louise Imogen Guiney
Thou therefore, moon of so divine a ray,
Lend to our steps both fortitude and light!
Feebly along a venerable way
They climb the infinite, or perish quite;
Nothing are days and deeds to such as they,
While in this liberal house thy face is bright.
Imitated From Ossian
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
The stream with languid murmur creeps,
In Lumin's flowery vale:
Beneath the dew the Lily weeps
Slow-waving to the gale.
In the Jewish Synagogue at Newport
© Emma Lazarus
Here, where the noises of the busy town,
The ocean's plunge and roar can enter not,
We stand and gaze around with tearful awe,
And muse upon the consecrated spot.
Idem the Same: A Valentine to Sherwood Anderson
© Gertrude Stein
I knew too that through them I knew too that he was through, I knew too that he threw them. I knew too that they were through, I knew too I knew too, I knew I knew them.
I Am Offering this Poem
© James Russell Lowell
I am offering this poem to you,
since I have nothing else to give.
Keep it like a warm coat
when winter comes to cover you,
or like a pair of thick socks
the cold cannot bite through,
If The Advertising Man Had Been Gilbert
© Franklin Pierce Adams
Never mind the slippery wet street-
The tire with a thousand claws will hold you.
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 3
© Alfred Tennyson
O Sorrow, cruel fellowship,
O Priestess in the vaults of Death,
O sweet and bitter in a breath,
What whispers from thy lying lip?
