Travel poems
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Book Third [Residence at Cambridge]
© William Wordsworth
IT was a dreary morning when the wheels
Rolled over a wide plain o'erhung with clouds,
And nothing cheered our way till first we saw
The long-roofed chapel of King's College lift
Turrets and pinnacles in answering files,
Extended high above a dusky grove.
Truth
© William Cowper
Man, on the dubious waves of error toss'd,
His ship half founder'd, and his compass lost,
An Ode For The Fourth Of July
© James Russell Lowell
Entranced I saw a vision in the cloud
That loitered dreaming in yon sunset sky,
Book Thirteenth [Imagination And Taste, How Impaired And Restored Concluded]
© William Wordsworth
FROM Nature doth emotion come, and moods
Of calmness equally are Nature's gift:
A Summer Pilgrimage
© John Greenleaf Whittier
To kneel before some saintly shrine,
To breathe the health of airs divine,
Homage To Sextus Propertius - I
© Ezra Pound
Flame burns, rain sinks into the cracks
And they all go to rack ruin beneath the thud of the years.
Stands genius a deathless adornment,
a name not to be worn out with the years.
Evening
© John Keble
'Tis gone, that bright and orbed blaze,
Fast fading from our wistful gaze;
You mantling cloud has hid from sight
The last faint pulse of quivering light.
To the Comet of 1843 [late version]
© Charles Harpur
But human eyes
As many and beautifulyea, more sublime
And radiant in their passion, from a more
Enlarged communion with the spirit of truth,
Shall welcome thee instead, mysterious stranger,
When thou returnst anew.
The Purgatory Of St. Patrick - Act III
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
LUIS. Oh, that name
Do not mention! do not kill me
By repeating what doth thrill me
To the centre of my frame
As with lightning. Yes, I know
That at length Polonia died.
The Exiles. 1660
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The goodman sat beside his door
One sultry afternoon,
With his young wife singing at his side
An old and goodly tune.
The Fountain
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Traveller! on thy journey toiling
By the swift Powow,
With the summer sunshine falling
On thy heated brow,
Listen, while all else is still,
To the brooklet from the hill.
A Book Of Strife In The Form Of The Diary Of An Old Soul - August
© George MacDonald
1.
SO shall abundant entrance me be given
The Bush Rangers
© Edward Harrington
Four horseman rode out from the heart of the range,
Four horseman with aspects forbidding and strange.
They were booted and spurred, they were armed to the teeth,
And they frowned as they looked at the valley beneath,
As forward they rode through the rocks and the fern -
Ned Kelly, Dan Kelly, Steve Hart and Joe Byrne.
Constancy In Inconstancy
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
An Old Mans Confession
SHE has a large still heart--this lady of mine,
(Not mine, i'faith! nor would I that she were
She walks this world of ours like Grecian nymph,
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: XXIX
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
A glorious triumph. On that day of days
When, standing on the summit's utmost edge
Of my first mountain--top, I viewed the maze
Which I had travelled upwards, ledge on ledge,
Poem For The Dedication Of The Fountain At Stratford-On-Avon
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
PRESENTED BY GEORGE W. CHILDS, OF PHILADELPHIA
WELCOME, thrice welcome is thy silvery gleam,
The Opossum-Hunters
© Henry Kendall
Twisted boughs shall tremble oer us, hollow woods shall moan before us,
And the torrents like a chorus down the gorges dark shall sing;
And the vines shall shake and shiver, and the startled grasses quiver,
Like the reeds beside a river in the gusty days of Spring;
While we forward haste delighted, through a region seldom lighted
Souls impatient, hearts excited like a wind upon the wing!
The White-Footed Deer
© William Cullen Bryant
It was a hundred years ago,
When, by the woodland ways,
The traveller saw the wild deer drink,
Or crop the birchen sprays.
Second Sunday After Christmas
© John Keble
And wilt thou hear the fevered heart
To Thee in silence cry?
Amours De Voyage, Canto IV
© Arthur Hugh Clough
I have returned and found their names in the book at Como.
Certain it is I was right, and yet I am also in error.
Added in feminine hand, I read, By the boat to Bellaggio.-
So to Bellaggio again, with the words of he writing to aid me.
Yet at Bellaggio I find no trace, no sort of remembrance.
So I am here, and wait, and know every hour will remove them.
