Travel poems
/ page 29 of 119 /ElegyXI: The Bracelet
© John Donne
NOT that in colour it was like thy hair,
For armlets of that thou mayst let me wear ;
The Three Kings. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Fifth)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Three Kings came riding from far away,
Melchior and Gaspar and Baltasar;
Three Wise Men out of the East were they,
And they travelled by night and they slept by day,
For their guide was a beautiful, wonderful star.
The White Vigil
© Madison Julius Cawein
Last night I dreamed I saw you lying dead,
And by your sheeted form stood all alone:
Frail as a flow'r you lay upon your bed,
And on your still face, through the casement, shone
The moon, as lingering to kiss you there
Fall'n asleep, white violets in your hair.
Gotham - Book I
© Charles Churchill
Far off (no matter whether east or west,
A real country, or one made in jest,
The Ghost of Goshen
© Anonymous
Through Goshen Hollow, where hemlocks grow,
Where rushing rills, with flash and flow,
Are over the rough rocks falling;
Where fox, where bear, and catamount hide,
Green River
© William Cullen Bryant
When breezes are soft and skies are fair,
I steal an hour from study and care,
And hie me away to the woodland scene,
Where wanders the stream with waters of green,
Lycus the Centaur
© Thomas Hood
FROM AN UNROLLED MANUSCRIPT OF APOLLONIUS CURIUS
(The Argument: Lycus, detained by Circe in her magical dominion, is beloved by a Water Nymph, who, desiring to render him immortal, has recourse to the Sorceress. Circe gives her an incantation to pronounce, which should turn Lycus into a horse; but the horrible effect of the charm causing her to break off in the midst, he becomes a Centaur).
Lines Addressed To Lieut. R.W.H. Hardy, R.N.
© Charles Lamb
ON THE PERUSAL OF HIS VOLUME OF TRAVELS IN THE INTERIOR OF MEXICO.
'Tis pleasant, lolling in our elbow-chair,
The Old Road
© Jones Very
THE ROAD is left that once was trod
By man and heavy-laden beast;
And new ways opened, iron-shod,
That bind the land from west to east.
Winter Evening
© Alexander Pushkin
The storm wind covers the sky
Whirling the fleecy snow drifts,
Now it howls like a wolf,
Now it is crying, like a lost child,
Concepcion De Arguello
© Francis Bret Harte
Looking seaward, o'er the sand-hills stands the fortress, old and
quaint,
By the San Francisco friars lifted to their patron saint,--
The Short Road To Heaven
© Katharine Tynan
There's a short road to Heaven, but you must take it young,
And if you're for long living the road is all as long;
A long road, a hard road, with many a turn and twist.
The longer you'll be travelling, the easier it's missed.
The Voyageur
© William Henry Drummond
Dere's somet'ing stirrin' ma blood tonight,
On de night of de young new year,
The Ports of the Open Sea
© Henry Lawson
Down here where the ships loom large in
The gloom when the sea-storms veer,
Scholar And The Carpenter
© Jean Ingelow
While ripening corn grew thick and deep,
And here and there men stood to reap,
Matthew
© William Wordsworth
IF Nature, for a favourite child,
In thee hath tempered so her clay,
That every hour thy heart runs wild,
Yet never once doth go astray,
The Voice of the Swamp Oak
© Charles Harpur
Even when the waveless air
May only stir the lightest leaf,
A lowly voice keeps moaning there
Wordless oracles of grief.
Poetry
© Boris Pasternak
Yes, I shall swear by you, my verse,
I shall wheeze out, before I swoon:
You're not a tenor's shape and voice,
You're summer travelling third class,
You are a suburb, not a tune.