Travel poems
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Seeing Off A Friend
© Li Po
Green hills above the northern wall,
White water winding east of the city.
On this spot our single act of parting,
The lonely tumbleweed journeys ten thousand li.
Amyntor's Grove, His Chloris, Arigo, And Gratiana. An Elogie
© Richard Lovelace
It was Amyntor's Grove, that Chloris
For ever ecchoes, and her glories;
Chloris, the gentlest sheapherdesse,
That ever lawnes and lambes did blesse;
The Tunning of Elenor Rumming
© John Skelton
Some renne tyll they swete,
Brynge wyth them malte or whete,
And dame Elynour entrete
To byrle them of the best.
Evangeline: Part The Second. II.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
IT was the month of May. Far down the Beautiful River,
Past the Ohio shore and past the mouth of the Wabash,
The Poor Man Dreams
© Arthur Rimbaud
Perhaps an Evening awaits me
when I shall drink I peace in some old Town,
The Kitten And Falling Leaves
© William Wordsworth
That way look, my Infant, lo!
What a pretty baby-show!
See the kitten on the wall,
Walter And Jane: Or, The Poor Blacksmith
© Robert Bloomfield
'We brav'd Life's storm together; while that Drone,
'Your poor old Uncle, WALTER, liv'd alone.
'He died the other day: when round his bed
'No tender soothing tear Affection shed--
'Affection! 'twas a plant he never knew;--
'Why should he feast on fruits he never grew?'
The Song Of The Builder
© Edgar Albert Guest
I sink my piers to the solid rock,
And I send my steel to the sky,
And I pile up the granite, block by block
Full twenty stories high;
Nor wind nor weather shall wash away
The thing that I've builded, day by day.
Wentworth
© Mary Hannay Foott
Tis a proud thing for Australia, while the funeral-prayers are said,
To remember loving service, frankly rendered by the dead;
How he strove, amid the nations, evermore to raise her head.
How in youth he sang her glory, as it is, and is to be,
Called her Empress,while they held her yet as base-born, over sea,
Owned her Mother,when her children scarce were counted with the free!
A Song of Hope
© George MacDonald
I dinna ken what's come ower me!
There's a how whaur ance was a hert!
I never luik oot afore me,
An' a cry winna gar me stert;
There's naething nae mair to come ower me,
Blaw the win' frae ony airt!
My Heart, My Traveler with English Translation
© Faiz Ahmed Faiz
Dil e man Musafir e man
Meray dil meray musafir
hua phir sey hukm sadir
k watan badar hon hum tum
Hawarden
© George Meredith
When comes the lighted day for men to read
Life's meaning, with the work before their hands
A Farmhouse Dirge
© Alfred Austin
Will you walk with me to the brow of the hill, to visit the farmer's wife,
Whose daughter lies in the churchyard now, eased of the ache of life?
Half a mile by the winding lane, another half to the top:
There you may lean o'er the gate and rest; she will want me awhile to stop,
Stop and talk of her girl that is gone and no more will wake or weep,
Or to listen rather, for sorrow loves to babble its pain to sleep.
Where Home Was
© Augusta Davies Webster
'TWAS yesterday; 'twas long ago:
And for this flaunting grimy street,
Alma; or, The Progress of the Mind. In Three Cantos. - Canto II.
© Matthew Prior
Richard, quoth Matt, these words of thine
Speak something sly and something fine;
But I shall e'en resume my theme,
However thou may'st praise or blame.
The Song Of Hiawatha III: Hiawatha's Childhood
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Downward through the evening twilight,
In the days that are forgotten,
The Death of Morgan
© Anonymous
Throughout Australian History no tongue or pen can tell
Of such preconcerted treachery - there is no parallel -
As the tragic deed of Morgan's death; without warning he was shot,
On Peechelba Station it will never be forgot.
Buddha And Brahma
© Henry Brooks Adams
Then gently, still in silence, lost in thought,
The Buddha raised the Lotus in his hand,
His eyes bent downward, fixed upon the flower.
No more! A moment so he held it only,
Then his hand sank into its former rest.
