Travel poems
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Cumnor Hall
© William Mickle
The dews of summer nighte did falle, The moone (sweete regente of the skye)Silver'd the walles of Cumnor Halle, And manye an oake that grewe therebye.
Flint and Feather
© Emily Pauline Johnson
Ojistoh1.2Of him whose name breathes bravery and life1.3And courage to the tribe that calls him chief.1.4I am Ojistoh, his white star, and he1.5Is land, and lake, and sky--and soul to me.
The Traveler
© Guiterman Arthur
Oh, who would choose to be a traveler? --That anxious railway-guide unravelerWho spends his nights in berths and bunks,His days in chaperoning trunks;Who stands in line at gates and wicketsTo spend his means on costly ticketsTo Irkutsk, Liverpool and YapAnd other dots upon the map
Mane Nobiscum Domine
© Gray John Henry
Stay with us, Lord, the day is travelled far;we meet thee at its close.Lord, at our humble table sit and share,and be, our sweet repose.
Ye Wearie Wayfarer Hys Ballad. Fytte I. By Wood and Wold
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
Beneath the greenwood bough. -- W. Scott.
The Rising Village
© Oliver Goldsmith
Thou dear companion of my early years,Partner of all my boyish hopes and fears,To whom I oft addressed the youthful strain,And sought no other praise than thine to gain;Who oft hast bid me emulate his fameWhose genius formed the glory of our name;Say, when thou canst, in manhood's ripened age,With judgment scan the more aspiring page,Wilt thou accept this tribute of my lay,By far too small thy fondness to repay?Say, dearest Brother, wilt thou now excuseThis bolder flight of my adventurous muse? If, then, adown your cheek a tear should flowFor Auburn's Village, and its speechless woe;If, while you weep, you think the
More Females of the Species
© Gilman Charlotte Anna Perkins
When the traveller in the pasture meets the he-bull in his pride,He shouts to scare the monster, who will often turn aside;But the milch cow, thus accosted, pins the traveller to the rail
X Mon. December [1744] hath xxxi days.
© Benjamin Franklin
This World's an Inn, all Travellers are we;And this World's Goods th'Accommodations be
The Tree
© Anne Finch - Countess of Winchilsea
Fair tree! for thy delightful shade'Tis just that some return be made;Sure some return is due from meTo thy cool shadows, and to thee
To Mr. S. B.
© John Donne
O thou which to search out the secret parts Of the India, or rather Paradise Of knowledge, hast with courage and adviceLately launch'd into the vast sea of arts,Disdain not in thy constant travelling To do as other voyagers, and make Some turns into less creeks, and wisely takeFresh water at the Heliconian spring;I sing not, siren-like, to tempt; for I Am harsh; nor as those schismatics with you, Which draw all wits of good hope to their crew;But seeing in you bright sparks of poetry, I, though I brought no fuel, had desire With these articulate blasts to blow the fire
The Bracelet
© John Donne
Not that in colour it was like thy hair,For armlets of that thou mayst let me wear;Nor that thy hand is oft embrac'd and kiss'd,For so it had that good which oft I miss'd;Not for that seely old morality,That as those links are tied our love should be;Nor for the luck sake; but the bitter cost
Forty Below
© Dafoe Christopher
From this valley we hope to be going,When at last we can travel alone,For we're sick of the snow and the dust storms,In Toronto we'll find a new home.
