Travel poems
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The Tree's Reflection
© Paul Verlaine
The trees' reflection in the misty stream
Dies off in livid steam;
Whilst up among the actual boughs, forlorn,
The tender wood-doves mourn.
The Ring And The Book - Chapter III - The Other Half-Rome
© Robert Browning
ANOTHER DAY that finds her living yet,
Little Pompilia, with the patient brow
Jaspar
© Robert Southey
Jaspar was poor, and want and vice
Had made his heart like stone,
And Jaspar look'd with envious eyes
On riches not his own.
A Damascene Moon
© Nizar Qabbani
Green Tunisia, I have come to you as a lover
On my brow, a rose and a book
For I am the Damascene whose profession is passion
Whose singing turns the herbs green
The Wishing Bridge
© John Greenleaf Whittier
AMONG the legends sung or said
Along our rocky shore,
The Wishing Bridge of Marblehead
May well be sung once more.
When Albani Sang
© William Henry Drummond
Was workin' away on de farm dere, wan
morning not long ago,
The Parish Register - Part III: Burials
© George Crabbe
drown'd.
"Is this a landsman's love? Be certain then,
"We part for ever!"--and they cried, "Amen!"
His words were truth's:- Some forty summers
The Cup
© Swami Vivekananda
This is your cup - the cup assigned
to you from the beginning.
Nay, My child, I know how much
of that dark drink is your own brew
Of fault and passion, ages long ago,
In the deep years of yesterday, I know.
An Athenian Reverie
© Archibald Lampman
How the returning days, one after one,
Came ever in their rhythmic round, unchanged,
Umbria
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Deep Italian day with a wide--washed splendour fills
Umbria green with valleys, blue with a hundred hills.
Dim in the south Soracte, a far rock faint as a cloud
Rumours Rome, that of old spoke over earth, ``Thou art mine!''
A Short Poem Written At The Moment When A Rising River Looked Like A Rolling Ocean
© Du Fu
I was stubborn by nature and addicted to perfect lines,
fought to the death to find words that startle.
Now in old age my poems flow out freely, the way
flowers and birds forget deep sorrow in spring.
The Brook
© Alfred Tennyson
I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make a sudden sally
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.
Not A Money Debt
© Edgar Albert Guest
YOU can't pay back in dollars what your father does for you,
You can't repay in kindness all the tenderness he shows;
You little know the perils he has safely brought you through,
And the wealth of Rockefeller this account would never close.
The Farmer's Boy - Winter
© Robert Bloomfield
If now in beaded rows drops deck the spray,
While _Phoebus_ grants a momentary ray,
Let but a cloud's broad shadow intervene,
And stiffen'd into gems the drops are seen;
And down the furrow'd oak's broad southern side
Streams of dissolving rime no longer glide.
Life Is A Dream - Act I
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
THIS TRANSLATION
INTO ENGLISH IMITATIVE VERSE
OF
CALDERON'S MOST FAMOUS DRAMA,
