Poems begining by I

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In Celebration

© Mark Strand

You sit in a chair, touched by nothing, feeling

the old self become the older self, imagining

I like to see it lap the Miles - (383)

© Emily Dickinson

I like to see it lap the Miles -
And lick the Valleys up -
And stop to feed itself at Tanks -
And then - prodigious step

I Care Not for These Ladies

© Thomas Campion

I care not for these ladies,

That must be wooed and prayed:

Interim

© Margaret Widdemer

I HAVE a little peace today,
And I can pause and see
How life is filled with golden things
And gracious things for me;

Immortality

© Matthew Arnold

Foil'd by our fellow-men, depress'd, outworn,
We leave the brutal world to take its way,
And, Patience! in another life, we say
The world shall be thrust down, and we up-borne.

In The Night

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Where art thou, thou lost face,
Which, yet a little while, wert making mirth
At these new years which seemed too sad to be?
Where art thou fled which for a minute's space

Italy : 39. The Fountain

© Samuel Rogers

It was a well
Of whitest marble, white as from the quarry;
And richly wrought with many a high relief,
Greek sculpture -- in some earlier day perhaps

I Hid my Love

© John Clare

I hid my love when young till I

Couldn't bear the buzzing of a fly;

Inniskeen Road: July Evening

© Patrick Kavanagh

The bicycles go by in twos and threes -

There's a dance in Billy Brennan's barn to-night,

In A/C with Ghosts

© Kenneth Slessor

You can shuffle and scuffle and scold,

You can rattle the knockers and knobs,

I Dreamed That in a City Dark as Paris

I dreamed that in a city dark as Paris
I stood alone in a deserted square.
The night was trembling with a violet
Expectancy. At the far edge it moved
And rumbled; on that flickering horizon
The guns were pumping color in the sky.

If It Should Ever Come

© Edward Dorn

And we are all there together

time will wave as willows do

I Shall not Care

When I am dead and over me bright April
Shakes out her rain-drenched hair,
Tho' you should lean above me broken-hearted,
I shall not care.

I Wasn’t One of the Six Million: And What Is My Life Span? Open Closed Open

© John Wesley

3
And what is my life span? I’m like a man gone out of Egypt:
the Red Sea parts, I cross on dry land,
two walls of water, on my right hand and on my left.
Pharaoh’s army and his horsemen behind me. Before me the desert,
perhaps the Promised Land, too. That is my life span.