Travel poems
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The Rubaiyat of Omar Cayenne
© Gelett Burgess
WAKE! For the Hack can scatter into flightShakespere and Dante in a single Night! The Penny-a-liner is Abroad, and strikesOur Modern Literature with blithering Blight.
1908
© Christopher John Brennan
The droning tram swings westward: shrillthe wire sings overhead, and chillmidwinter draughts rattle the glassthat shows the dusking way I passto yon four-turreted square towerthat still exalts the golden hourwhere youth, initiate once, endearsa treasure richer with the years
A Vision out West
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
Far reaching down's a solid sea sunk everlastingly to rest,And yet whose billows seem to be for ever heaving toward the westThe tiny fieldmice make their nests, the summer insects buzz and humAmong the hollows and the crests of this wide ocean stricken dumb,Whose rollers move for ever on, though sullenly, with fettered wills,To break in voiceless wrath upon the crumbled bases of far hills,Where rugged outposts meet the shock, stand fast, and hurl them back again,An avalanche of earth and rock, in tumbled fragments on the plain;But, never heeding the rebuff, to right and left they kiss the feetOf hanging cliff and bouldered bluff till on the farther side they meet,And once again resume their march to where the afternoon sun dipsToward the west, and Heaven's arch salutes the Earth with ruddy lips
On the Boundary
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
I love the ancient boundary-fence-- That mouldering chock-and-log:When I go ride the boundary I let the old horse jog,And take his pleasure in and out Where sandalwood grows dense,And tender pines clasp hands across The log that tops the fence
The Digger's Song
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
Scrape the bottom of the hole: gather up the stuff! Fossick in the crannies, lest you leave a grain behind!Just another shovelful and that'll be enough-- Now we'll take it to the bank and see what we can find
The Demon Snow-shoes
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
The snow lies deep on hill and dale,In rocky gulch and grassy vale:The tiny, trickling, tumbling fallsAre frozen 'twixt their rocky wallsThat grey and brown look silent downUpon Kiandra's shrouded town
Indoor Games near Newbury
© John Betjeman
In among the silver birches winding ways of tarmac wander And the signs to Bussock Bottom, Tussock Wood and Windy Brake,Gabled lodges, tile-hung churches, catch the lights of our Lagonda As we drive to Wendy's party, lemon curd and Christmas cake
An Incident in the Early Life of Ebenezer Jones, Poet, 1828
© John Betjeman
"We were together at a well-known boarding-school of that day (1828), situated at the foot of Highgate Hill, and presided over by a dissenting minister, the Rev
The Seafarer
© Anonymous
Mæg ic be me sylfum soðgied wrecan, [I can utter a true tale about myself,]siþas secgan, hu ic geswincdagum [tell of my travels, how in laboursome days]earfoðhwile oft þrowade, [a time of hardship I often suffered,]bitre breostceare gebiden hæbbe, [how bitter sorrow in my breast I have borne,]gecunnad in ceole cearselda fela, [made trial on shipboard of many sorrowful abodes; ]atol yþa gewealc, þær mec oft bigeat [dread was the rolling of the waves; there my task was often]nearo nihtwaco æt nacan stefnan, [the hard night-watch at the boat's prow,]þonne he be clifum cnossað
Mary Hamilton
© Anonymous
Word 's gane to the kitchen, And word 's gane to the ha,That Marie Hamilton gangs wi bairn To the hichest Stewart of a'.
Clerk Saunders
© Anonymous
Whan bells war rung, an mass was sung, A wat a' man to bed were gone,Clark Sanders came to Margret's window, With mony a sad sigh and groan.
