Travel poems
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A Child's Christmas In Wales
© Dylan Thomas
One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound
except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember
whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve
nights when I was six.
Within my Garden, rides a Bird
© Emily Dickinson
Within my Garden, rides a Bird
Upon a single Wheel --
Whose spokes a dizzy Music make
As 'twere a travelling Mill --
What if I say I shall not wait!
© Emily Dickinson
What if I say I shall not wait!
What if I burst the fleshly Gate --
And pass escaped -- to thee!
Two Travellers perishing in Snow
© Emily Dickinson
Two Travellers perishing in Snow
The Forests as they froze
Together heard them strengthening
Each other with the words
The Things that never can come back, are several --
© Emily Dickinson
The Things that never can come back, are several --
Childhood -- some forms of Hope -- the Dead --
Though Joys -- like Men -- may sometimes make a Journey --
And still abide --
The Road was lit with Moon and star --
© Emily Dickinson
The Road was lit with Moon and star --
The Trees were bright and still --
Descried I -- by the distant Light
A Traveller on a Hill --
The butterfly obtains
© Emily Dickinson
The butterfly obtains
But little sympathy
Though favorably mentioned
In Entomology --
Risk is the Hair that holds the Tun
© Emily Dickinson
Risk is the Hair that holds the Tun
Seductive in the Air --
That Tun is hollow -- but the Tun --
With Hundred Weights -- to spare --
Now I knew I lost her --
© Emily Dickinson
Now I knew I lost her --
Not that she was gone --
But Remoteness travelled
On her Face and Tongue.
No Man can compass a Despair
© Emily Dickinson
No Man can compass a Despair --
As round a Goalless Road
No faster than a Mile at once
The Traveller proceed --
Like Flowers, that heard the news of Dews,
© Emily Dickinson
Like Flowers, that heard the news of Dews,
But never deemed the dripping prize
Awaited their -- low Brows --
Or Bees -- that thought the Summer's name
Some rumor of Delirium,
No Summer -- could -- for Them --
I went to thank Her
© Emily Dickinson
I went to thank Her --
But She Slept --
Her Bed -- a funneled Stone --
With Nosegays at the Head and Foot --
That Travellers -- had thrown --
I watched the Moon around the House
© Emily Dickinson
I watched the Moon around the House
Until upon a Pane --
She stopped -- a Traveller's privilege -- for Rest --
And there upon
I have never seen "Volcanoes"
© Emily Dickinson
I have never seen "Volcanoes" --
But, when Travellers tell
How those old -- phlegmatic mountains
Usually so still --
How News must feel when travelling
© Emily Dickinson
How News must feel when travelling
If News have any Heart
Alighting at the Dwelling
'Twill enter like a Dart!
Glass was the Street -- in tinsel Peril
© Emily Dickinson
Glass was the Street -- in tinsel Peril
Tree and Traveller stood --
Filled was the Air with merry venture
Hearty with Boys the Road --
A winged spark doth soar about --
© Emily Dickinson
A winged spark doth soar about --
I never met it near
For Lightning it is oft mistook
When nights are hot and sere --
"Go travelling with us!"
© Emily Dickinson
"Go travelling with us!"
Her travels daily be
By routes of ecstasy
To Evening's Sea --
What Inn is this
© Emily Dickinson
What Inn is this
Where for the night
Peculiar Traveller comes?
Who is the Landlord?
The Sky is low -- the Clouds are mean.
© 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 --
