Travel poems
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The Wail in the Native Oak
© Henry Kendall
Where the lone creek, chafing nightly in the cold and sad moonshine,
Beats beneath the twisted fern-roots and the drenched and dripping vine;
Lo, All the Way
© Adelaide Crapsey
Lo, All the Way,
Look you, I said, the clouds will break, the sky
The Purgatory Of St. Patrick - Act II
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
PHILIP [aside]. If to find my death I come,
Why precipitate my doom?
But so patient who could be
As to not desire to see
What impends, how dark its gloom?
The Setting Of The Moon
© Giacomo Leopardi
As, in the lonely night,
Above the silvered fields and streams
Don Juan: Canto The Second
© George Gordon Byron
Oh ye! who teach the ingenuous youth of nations,
Holland, France, England, Germany, or Spain,
The Stallion
© William Henry Ogilvie
Beside the dusty road he steps at ease;
His great head bending to the stallion-bar,
Now lifted, now flung downward to his knees,
Tossing the forelock from his forehead star;
Champing the while his heavy bit in pride
And flecking foam upon his flank and side.
The Murrumbidgee Shearer
© Anonymous
Come, all you jolly natives, and I'll relate to you
Some of my observations - adventures, too, a few.
I've travelled about the country for miles full many a score,
And oft-times would have hungered, but for the cheek I bore.
Lament Of A Bereaved Person
© Confucius
A russet pear-tree rises all alone,
But rich the growth of leaves upon it shown!
The Hermit
© James Beattie
At the close of day, when the hamlet is still,
And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove,
Why Dost Thou Shade Thy Lovely Face?
© Francis Quarles
Why dost thou shade thy lovely face? Oh, why
Does that eclipsing hand so long deny
Margrave
© Robinson Jeffers
But who is our judge? It is likely the enormous
Beauty of the world requires for completion our ghostly increment,
It has to dream, and dream badly, a moment of its night.
England's Fields
© Lloyd Roberts
England's cliffs are white like milk,
But England's fields are green;
The grey fogs creep across the moors,
But warm suns stand between.
And not so far from London town, beyond the brimming street,
A thousand little summer winds are singing in the wheat.
The Mountain Whippoorwill
© Stephen Vincent Benet
Listen to my fiddle Kingdom ComeKingdom Come!
Hear the frogs a-chunkin "Jug o rum, Jug o' rum!"
Hear that mountain-whippoorwill be lonesome in the air.
An Ill tell yuh how I traveled to the Essex County Fair.
Dorchester Amphitheatre .
© John Kenyon
By Rome's old amphitheatre I stood,
Still pretty perfect, on the Weymouth road,
An Artist
© Robinson Jeffers
That sculptor we knew, the passionate-eyed son of a quarryman,
Who astonished Rome and Paris in his meteor youth, and then
was gone, at his high tide of triumphs,
Without reason or good-bye; I have seen him again lately, after
twenty years, but not in Europe.
For Schoolchildren
© Joseph Brodsky
You know, I try, when darkness falls,
to estimate to some degree
by marking off the grief in miles
the distance now from you to me.
The Wonder-Working Magician - Act II
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
CYPRIAN. Ever wrangling in this way,
How ye both my patience try!
Why can he not go? Say why?
