Travel poems
/ page 30 of 119 /Another on Eurymedon
© Theocritus
Prove, traveller, now, that you honour the brave
Above the poltroon, when he's laid in the grave,
By murmuring 'Peace to Eurymedon dead.'
The turf should lie light on so sacred a head.
Epitaph
© George Gordon Byron
Posterity will ne'er survey
A nobler grave than this:
Here lie the bones of Castlereagh:
Stop, traveler--
The Will To Live
© Edith Nesbit
Not to desire, to admit, to adore,
Casting the robe of the soul that you wore
Just as the soul casts the body's robe down.
This is man's destiny, this is man's crown.
This is the splendour, the end of the feast;
This is the light of the Star in the East.
The Unhappy Lot Of Mr. Knott
© James Russell Lowell
My worthy friend, A. Gordon Knott,
From business snug withdrawn,
Was much contented with a lot
That would contain a Tudor cot
'Twixt twelve feet square of garden-plot,
And twelve feet more of lawn.
In The House Of Idiedaily
© Bliss William Carman
OH, but life went gaily, gaily,
In the house of Idiedaily!
The Angel In The House. Book I. Canto I.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
Preludes.
I The Impossibility
Don Juan: Canto The Twelfth
© George Gordon Byron
Of all the barbarous middle ages, that
Which is most barbarous is the middle age
Ode To Joy
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Chorus.
Be embracd, ye millions yonder!
Take this kiss throughout the world!
Brothersoer the stars unfurld
Must reside a loving Father.}
Tale XII
© George Crabbe
'SQUIRE THOMAS; OR THE PRECIPITATE CHOICE.
'Squire Thomas flatter'd long a wealthy Aunt,
The Borough. Letter XXIV: Schools
© George Crabbe
pride, -
Their room, the sty in which th' assembly meet,
In the close lane behind the Northgate-street;
T'observe his vain attempts to keep the peace,
Till tolls the bell, and strife and troubles cease,
Half An Hour Before Supper
© Francis Bret Harte
"So she's here, your unknown Dulcinea, the lady you met on the train,
And you really believe she would know you if you were to meet her
again?"
Una
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
Roving, roving, as it seems,
Una lights my clouded dreams;
Still for journeys she is dressed;
We wander far by east and west.
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto II.
© George Gordon Byron
1
Tambourgi! Tambourgi! thy 'larum afar
Gives hope to the valiant, and promise of war:
All the sons of the mountains arise at the note,
Chimariot, Illyrian, and dark Suliote!
With My Swag All On My Shoulder
© Anonymous
With my swag on my shoulder,
black billy in my hand,
I traveled the bush of Australia
like a true born native man.
The Task : Complete
© William Cowper
In man or woman, but far most in man,
And most of all in man that ministers
And serves the altar, in my soul I loathe
All affectation. 'Tis my perfect scorn;
Object of my implacable disgust.
Paracelsus: Part I: Paracelsus Aspires
© Robert Browning
Scene.- Würzburg; a garden in the environs. 1512.
Festus, Paracelsus, Michal.
The Cock and The Fox
© Robert Henryson
Thogh brutal beestes be irrational,
That is to say, wantand, discretioun,
Hunger
© Arthur Rimbaud
Beneath the bush a wolf will howl, Spitting bright feathers
From his feast of fowl: Like him, I devour myself.
Waiting to be gathered, Fruits and grasses spend their hours;
The spider spinning in the hedge, Eats only flowers.
Let me sleep! Let me boil, On the altars of Solomon;
Let me soak the rusty soil, And flow into Kendron.