Poems begining by I

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Impromptu (VI)

© Frances Anne Kemble

My sun went down at noon to-day,

  O Sorrow!

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"It doesn’t look like a finger..."

© Hugh Sykes Davies

It doesn’t look like a finger it looks like a feather of broken glass

It doesn’t look like something to eat it looks like something eaten

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I Step Across The Mystic Border-Land

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

I step across the mystic border-land,
And look upon the wonder-world of Art.
How beautiful, how beautiful its hills!
And all its valleys, how surpassing fair!

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I Love Thee

© Thomas Hood

I love thee—I love thee!
'Tis all that I can say;—
It is my vision in the night,
My dreaming in the day;

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Indian Weavers

© Sarojini Naidu

WEAVERS, weaving at break of day,
Why do you weave a garment so gay? . . .
Blue as the wing of a halcyon wild,
We weave the robes of a new-born child.

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Internal Harmony

© George Meredith

Assured of worthiness we do not dread

Competitors; we rather give them hail

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Indian Dancers

© Sarojini Naidu

Eyes  ravished with rapture, celestially panting, what passionate bosoms aflaming with fire
Drink deep of the hush of the hyacinth heavens that glimmer around them in fountains of light;
O wild and entrancing the strain of keen music that cleaveth the stars like a wail of desire,
And beautiful dancers with houri-like faces bewitch the voluptuous watches of night.
The scents of red roses and sandalwood flutter and die in the maze of their gem-tangled hair,

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I Would Not Be A King

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

I would not be a king--enough
Of woe it is to love;
The path to power is steep and rough,
And tempests reign above.

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In Country Sleep

© Dylan Thomas

Night and the reindeer on the clouds above the haycocks
And the wings of the great roc ribboned for the fair!
The leaping saga of prayer! And high, there, on the hare-
  Heeled winds the rooks
Cawing from their black bethels soaring, the holy books
Of birds! Among the cocks like fire the red fox

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I Slept, And Dreamed That Life Was Beauty

© Louisa May Alcott

"I slept, and dreamed that life was beauty;
  I woke, and found that life was duty.
  Was thy dream then a shadowy lie?
  Toil on, sad heart, courageously,
  And thou shall find thy dream to be
  A noonday light and truth to thee."

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I’m So Good That I Don’t Have To Brag

© Sheldon Allan Silverstein

Now I'm warnin' all you women don't stand too close to me cause you might catch fire

Now you're talkin' to a man in a whole other kind of bag

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In Memory of Marina Tsvetaeva

© Boris Pasternak

Dismal day, with the weather inclement.
Inconsolably rivulets run
Down the porch in front of the doorway;
Through my wide-open windows they come.

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"I count the days until I see you, dear,"

© Lesbia Harford

I count the days until I see you, dear,
But the days only.
I dare not reckon up the nights and hours
I shall be lonely.

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In May

© Archibald Lampman

Grief was my master yesternight;
To-morrow I may grieve again;
But now along the windy plain
The clouds have taken flight.

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"I love the Forest;--I could dwell among…"

© Richard Monckton Milnes

I love the Forest;--I could dwell among
That silent people, till my thoughts up--grew
In nobly--ordered form, as to my view
Rose the succession of that lofty throng:--

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In Memoriam A. H. H.: 11.

© Alfred Tennyson

Calm and deep peace in this wide air,
  These leaves that redden to the fall;
  And in my heart, if calm at all,
If any calm, a calm despair:

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Improvisations: Light And Snow: 15

© Conrad Aiken

The music of the morning is red and warm;

Snow lies against the walls;

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In Memoriam

© Ada Cambridge

Life-length of days-the time to work and strive
 In his Lord's vineyard; to bring heavenly light
Into the drear, dark places of the earth,
 And make them fair and fruitful in His sight.

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In Black Despair

© Czeslaw Milosz

In grayish doubt and black despair,
I drafted hymns to the earth and the air,
pretending to joy, although I lacked it.
The age had made lament redundant.

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I Charge You

© Mathilde Blind

I charge you, O winds of the West, O winds with the wings of the dove,

That ye blow o'er the brows of my Love, breathing low that I sicken for love.