Travel poems
/ page 32 of 119 /Little and Great
© Charles Mackay
A traveller on a dusty road
Strewed acorns on the lea;
And one took root and sprouted up,
And grew into a tree.
Ashtaroth: A Dramatic Lyric
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
Orion: But an understanding tacit.
You have prospered much since the day we met;
You were then a landless knight;
You now have honour and wealth, and yet
I never can serve you right.
The Voyage
© Charles Baudelaire
À Maxime du Camp
I
For the child, in love with globe, and stamps,
the universe equals his vast appetite.
Italy : 7. Marguerite De Tours
© Samuel Rogers
Now the grey granite, starting through the snow,
Discovered many a variegated moss
That to the pilgrim resting on his staff
Shadows our capes and islands; and ere long
Book Eleventh: France [concluded]
© William Wordsworth
But indignation works where hope is not,
And thou, O Friend! wilt be refreshed. There is
One great society alone on earth:
The noble Living and the noble Dead.
The Comedian
© Edgar Albert Guest
Whatever the task and whatever the risk, wherever
the flag's in air,
When the Bear Comes Back Again
© Henry Lawson
Oh, the scene is wide an dreary an the sun is settin red,
An the grey-black sky of winters comin closer overhead.
Oh, Tell Me, Ye Breezes
© Henry Kendall
Tell me, ye breezes, yeve traversed the wild,
And passed oer the desolate spot,
Where reposeth in silence sweet Natures own child,
Where slumbers one nearly forgot?
The Exiles' Line
© Rudyard Kipling
Twelve knots an hour, be they more or less -
Oh slothful mother of much idleness,
Whom neither rivals spur nor contracts speed!
Nay, bear us gently! Wherefore need we press?
Foreign Lands
© Henry Lawson
Here we slave the dull years hopeless for the sake of Wool and Wheat
Here the homes of ugly Commerceniggard farm and haggard street;
Yet our mothers and our fathers won the life the heart demands
Less than fifty years gone over, we were born in Foreign Lands.
Ruth
© Henry Lawson
Are the fields of my fancy less fair through a window thats narrowed and barred?
Are the morning stars dimmed by the glare of the gas-light that flares in the yard?
No! And what does it matter to me if to-morrow I sail from the land?
I am free, as I never was free! I exult in my loneliness grand!
Angelo
© William Watson
Then Angelo bethought him of his vow;
And stepping forward stood before the twain;
And from his girdle plucked a dagger forth;
And spake no word, but pierced his own heart through.
The Straight Goer
© William Henry Ogilvie
The ringing, hanging hen-roost thief-we have no use for him;
When they tear him up and eat him not a single eye grows dim;
Within and Without: Part I: A Dramatic Poem
© George MacDonald
Robert.
Head in your hands as usual! You will fret
Your life out, sitting moping in the dark.
Come, it is supper-time.
The Song Of Hiawatha XXI: The White Man's Foot
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
In his lodge beside a river,
Close beside a frozen river,
Wanted--A Little Girl
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Where have they gone to-the little girls
With natural manners and natural curls;
Who love their dollies and like their toys,
And talk of something besides the boys?
Four Poems About Jamaica
© William Matthews
1. Montego Bay, 10:00 P.M.
A chandelier, a tiara,
a hive of lights. A cruise ship