(on proof-reading a first-line index)

I was angry with my friend, p. 20.

I struck the board, and cry'd, "No more!"

I must go down to the seas again, p. 2,

Though I'm not quite sure what for.

I am the teacher of athletes, p. 41.

I strove with none, as is only right.

Ich weiss nicht was soll as bedeuten.

I saw Eternity the other night.

I caught this morning morning's minion.

I hear an army charging, p. 73.

Not knowing what else to do about it,

I placed a jar in Tennessee.

Here I am, an old man in a dry month.

I, too, dislike it. How about you?

Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day?

I am his Highness' dog at Kew.

I wandered lonely as a cloud, p. 94.

I met a traveler from an antique land.

I fled him down the nights and days.

He cornered me. I shook his hand.

I canna tell what has come ower me.

I do not love thee, Doctor Fell.

If I should die, think only this of me:

I was not feeling very well.

I sit in one of the dives on 52d St.

I sing of Olaf, but when I get up to go,

I arise from dreams of thee.

Whose woods these are I think I know.

I saw the Congo creeping through the black.

I told my love, I told my love, a chore,

And there I shut her wild wild eyes

With kisses four, and a few more.

I died for beauty, but was scarce

Adjusted in the tomb, when suddenly,

By the road to the contagious hospital, I said,

I will arise and go now and go to Innisfree.

I intended an Ode, but the fact is this:

I long to talk to some old lover's ghost,

And ask him why the first person singular

Is so much more plural in poetry than most.