Travel poems
/ page 78 of 119 /Tears in Spring (Lament for Thoreau)
© William Ellery Channing
THE SWALLOW is flying over,
But he will not come to me;
Italy : 4. The Great St. Bernard
© Samuel Rogers
Night was again descending, when my mule,
That all day long had climbed among the clouds,
Higher and higher still, as by a stair
Let down from heaven itself, transporting me,
Of The Terrible Doubt Of Apperarances
© Walt Whitman
OF the terrible doubt of appearances,
Of the uncertainty after all-that we may be deluded,
An Essay on Man: Epistle II
© Alexander Pope
Superior beings, when of late they saw
A mortal Man unfold all Nature's law,
Admir'd such wisdom in an earthly shape,
And showed a Newton as we shew an Ape.
A Masque Presented At Ludlow Castle, 1634. (Comus)
© John Milton
The Scene changes to a stately palace, set out with all manner of
deliciousness: soft music, tables spread with all dainties. Comus
appears with his rabble, and the LADY set in an enchanted chair;
to
whom he offers his glass; which she puts by, and goes about to
rise.
Becoming A Dad
© Edgar Albert Guest
Old women say that men don't know
The pain through which all mothers go,
A Letter From A Girl To Her Own Old Age
© Alice Meynell
Listen, and when thy hand this paper presses,
O time-worn woman, think of her who blesses
What thy thin fingers touch, with her caresses.
Captain Dobbin
© Kenneth Slessor
CAPTAIN Dobbin, having retired from the South Seas
In the dumb tides of , with a handful of shells,
A few poisoned arrows, a cask of pearls,
And five thousand pounds in the colonial funds,
Metamorphoses: Book The Eleventh
© Ovid
The End of the Eleventh Book.
Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands
Memory
© Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev
Only snakes shed their skin,
So their souls can age and grow.
We, alas, do not resemble snakes,
We change souls, not bodies.
Ellen Irwin Or The Braes Of Kirtle
© William Wordsworth
FAIR Ellen Irwin, when she sate
Upon the braes of Kirtle,
Was lovely as a Grecian maid
Adorned with wreaths of myrtle;
To my honoured Friend Mr. George Sandys
© Henry King
It is, Sir, a confest intrusion here
That I before your labours do appear,
Which no loud Herald need, that may proclaim
Or seek acceptance, but the Authors fame.
Cadyow Castle
© Sir Walter Scott
When princely Hamilton's abode
Ennobled Cadyow's Gothic towers,
The song went round, the goblet flow'd,,
And revel sped the laughing hours.
The Traveller
© George Moses Horton
When from my native clime,
Mid lonely vallies pensive far I roam,
Mid rocks and hills where waters roll sublime,
'Tis sweet to think of home.
The Setting Sun
© George Moses Horton
'Tis sweet to trace the setting sun
Wheel blushing down the west;
When his diurnal race is run,
The traveller stops the gloom to shun,
And lodge his bones to rest.
Beclouded
© Emily Dickinson
The sky is low, the clouds are mean,
A travelling flake of snow
Across a barn or through a rut
Debates if it will go.
The Dream: (For my Father)
© Katharine Tynan
Over and over again I dream a dream,
I am coming home to you in the starlit gloam;
Long was the day from you and sweet 'twill seem
The day is over and I am coming home.