Travel poems
/ page 36 of 119 /
Since Jessie Died
© Edgar Albert Guest
We understand a lot of things we never did before,
And it seems that to each other Ma and I are meaning more.
I don't know how to say it, but since little Jessie died
We have learned that to be happy we must travel side by side.
You can share your joys and pleasures, but you never come to know
The depth there is in loving, till you've got a common woe.
Georgic 2
© Publius Vergilius Maro
Thus far the tilth of fields and stars of heaven;
Now will I sing thee, Bacchus, and, with thee,
The Three Strangers
© Walter de la Mare
Far are those tranquil hills,
Dyed with fair evening's rose;
On urgent, secret errand bent,
A traveller goes.
The Death-Raven (From The Danish Of Oehlenslaeger)
© George Borrow
"The wealthy bird came towering,
Came scowering,
O'er hill and stream.
'Look here, look here, thou needy bird,
How gay my feathers gleam.'
Poems Of Joys
© Walt Whitman
O to make the most jubilant poem!
Even to set off these, and merge with these, the carols of Death.
O full of music! full of manhood, womanhood, infancy!
Full of common employments! full of grain and trees.
Message From Abroad
© Allen Tate
Paris, November 1929
Their faces are bony and sharp but very red, although
their ancestors nearly two hundred years have dwelt
by the miasmal banks of tidewaters where malarial fever
makes men gaunt and dosing with quinine shakes them
as with a palsy. Traveller to America (1799).
The Ballad Of William Sycamore [1790-1871]
© Stephen Vincent Benet
My father, he was a mountaineer,
His fist was a knotty hammer;
He was quick on his feet as a running deer,
And he spoke with a Yankee stammer.
Songs Of Education: II. Geography
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
The earth is a place on which England is found,
And you find it however you twirl the globe round;
For the spots are all red and the rest is all grey,
And that is the meaning of Empire Day.
Nativity
© John Donne
Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb,
Now leaves His well-belov'd imprisonment,
Travels By The Fireside. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Fourth)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The ceaseless rain is falling fast,
And yonder gilded vane,
Immovable for three days past,
Points to the misty main,
Churchill's Grave: A Fact Literally Rendered
© George Gordon Byron
I stood beside the grave of him who blazed
The comet of a season, and I saw
The Disquieting Muses
© Sylvia Plath
Mother, mother, what ill-bred aunt
Or what disfigured and unsightly
Author's Apology For His Book
© John Bunyan
WHEN at the first I took my pen in hand
Thus for to write, I did not understand
The Happy Traveller
© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
WHO is the monarch of the Road?
I, the happy rover!
Lord of the way which lies before
Up to the hill and over--
Owner of all beneath the blue,
On till the end, and after, too!
Palm Tree
© Rabindranath Tagore
Palm-tree: single-legged giant,
topping other trees,
peering at the firmament -
It longs to pierce the black cloud-ceiling
and fly away, away,
if only it had wings.
