Travel poems
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The Mice. A Tale - To Mr. Adrian Drift
© Matthew Prior
But why all this? Is this your fable?
Believe me, Matt, it seems a bauble;
If you will let me know th' intent on't,
Go to your mice, and make an end on't.
Prof. vere de blaw
© Eugene Field
Achievin' sech distinction with his moddel tabble dote
Ez to make his Red Hoss Mountain restauraw a place uv note,
Our old friend Casey innovated somewhat round the place,
In hopes he would ameliorate the sufferin's uv the race;
My playmates
© Eugene Field
The wind comes whispering to me of the country green and cool--
Of redwing blackbirds chattering beside a reedy pool;
It brings me soothing fancies of the homestead on the hill,
And I hear the thrush's evening song and the robin's morning trill;
So I fall to thinking tenderly of those I used to know
Where the sassafras and snakeroot and checkerberries grow.
Kangaroo Power
© Henry Lawson
NOW, Yankee inventors can beat a retreat,
And German professors may take a back seat,
On The Move 'Man, You Gotta Go.'
© Thom Gunn
The blue jay scuffling in the bushes follows
Some hidden purpose, and the gush of birds
To The Small Celandine
© William Wordsworth
PANSIES, lilies, kingcups, daisies,
Let them live upon their praises;
Long as there's a sun that sets,
Primroses will have their glory;
Herodotus In Egypt Remembers Delos
© Ruth Padel
The ground verdigris, fluffy with young mosquitoes. Waters
as sacred as these, as fatted with reeds. Bronze palm planted
to Sun. Lizards, Nile alligators, hindquarters
rolling on granite sphinx-chippings. Air salted with confident
Heretics All
© Hilaire Belloc
Heretics all, whoever you may be,
In Tarbes or Nimes, or over the sea,
You never shall have good words from me.
Caritas non conturbat me.
Worth Forest
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Come, Prudence, you have done enough to--day--
The worst is over, and some hours of play
We both have earned, even more than rest, from toil;
Our minds need laughter, as a spent lamp oil,
Coole Park And Ballylee, 1931
© William Butler Yeats
Under my window-ledge the waters race,
Otters below and moor-hens on the top,
Billy Vickers
© Henry Kendall
Indeed, I'm forced to say aside,
To you, O reader, solely,
He only wants the horns and hide
To be a bullock wholly.
The Heart and Service
© Sir Thomas Wyatt
The heart and service to you proffer'dWith right good will full honestly,Refuse it not, since it is offer'd,But take it to you gentlely.
Excursion
© David Herbert Lawrence
I wonder, can the night go by;
Can this shot arrow of travel fly
Shaft-golden with light, sheer into the sky
Of a dawned to-morrow,
Faringdon Hill. Book I
© Henry James Pye
What various objects scatter'd round us lie,
And charm on every side the curious eye!
Amidst such ample stores, how shall the Muse
Know where to turn her sight, and which to choose?
Mating
© David Herbert Lawrence
Round clouds roll in the arms of the wind,
The round earth rolls in a clasp of blue sky,
And see, where the budding hazels are thinned,
The wild anemones lie
In undulating shivers beneath the wind.
The Seekers
© John Masefield
Friends and loves we have none, nor wealth nor blessed abode,
But the hope of the City of God at the other end of the road.
Song. Cold, Cold Is The Blast When December Is Howling
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Cold, cold is the blast when December is howling,
Cold are the damps on a dying man's brow,--
Stern are the seas when the wild waves are rolling,
And sad is the grave where a loved one lies low;
Kooroora
© Henry Kendall
The gums in the gully stand gloomy and stark,
A torrent beneath them is leaping,
I look at the swaling sunset
© David Herbert Lawrence
I look at the swaling sunset
And wish I could go also
Through the red doors beyond the black-purple bar.
