Be inspired by these short poems about travel. May they remind you of what you would like to visit, but also remind you of what you have where you are. All of life is a journey which we travel each day.
Some folks leave home for money
And some leave home for fame,
Some seek skies always sunny,
And some depart in shame.
I care not what the reason
Men travel east or west,
Or what the month or season -
The home-town is the best.
Let him who will, go wander
To distant towns to live,
Of some things I am fonder
Than all they have to give.
The gold of distant places
Could not repay me quite
For those familiar faces
That keep the home-town bright.
Up-Hill Poet: Christina Georgina Rossetti
Does the road wind up-hill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day's journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.
But is there for the night a resting-place?
A roof for when the slow, dark hours begin.
May not the darkness hide it from my face?
You cannot miss that inn.
Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?
Those who have gone before.
Then must I knock or call when just in sight?
They will not keep you standing at that door.
Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?
Of labor you shall find the sum.
Will there be beds for me and all who seek?
Yes, beds for all who come.
Travel Hopefully! Poet: Robert Louis Stevenson
O toiling hands of mortals!
O unwearied feet,
Travelling we know not whither!
Soon, soon, it seems to you,
You must come forth on some conspicuous hilltop,
And but a little way further, against the setting sun,
Descry the spires of El Dorado.
Little do ye know your own blessedness;
For to travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive,
And the true success is to labor
Hullo! Poet: Sam Walter Foss
When you see a man in woe.
Walk straight up and say, "Hullo!"
Say, "Hullo!" and "How d'ye do?
How's the world been using you?"
Slap the fellow on his back.
Bring your hand down with a whack;
Waltz straight up and don't go slow.
Shake his hand and say, "Hullo!"
When big vessels meet, they say.
They salute and sail away:
Just the same as you and me.
Lonely ships upon the sea.
Each one sailing his own jog
For a port beyond the fog;
Let your speaking-trumpet blow.
Lift your horn and cry, "Hullo!"
Say "Hullo!" and "How d ye do?"
Other folks are good as you.
When you leave your house of clay.
Wandering in die far away;
When you travel through the strange
Country far beyond the range.
Then the souls you've cheered will know
Who you be, and say, "Hullo!"
Travel Poet: Robert Louis Stevenson
I should like to rise and go
Where the golden apples grow; -
Where below another sky
Parrot islands anchored lie.
And, watched by cockatoos and goats.
Lonely Crusoes building boats; -
Where in sunshine reaching out
Eastern cities, miles about.
Are with mosque and minaret
Among sandy gardens set,
And the rich goods from near and far
Hang for sale in the bazaar; -
Where the Great Wall round China goes.
And on one side the desert blows.
And with bell and voice and drum.
Cities on the other hum;
Where the knotty crocodile
Lies and blinks in the Nile,
And the red flamingo flies
Hunting fish before his eyes; -
Where in jungles, near and far.
Man-devouring tigers are.
Lying close and giving ear
Lest the hunt be drawing near.
Or a comer-by be seen
Swinging in a palanquin; -
Where among the desert sands
Some deserted city stands.
All its children, sweep and prince.
Grown to manhood ages since.
Not a foot in street or house.
Not a stir of child or mouse,
And then kindly falls the night.
In all the town no spark of light.
There I’ll come when I’m a man
With a camel caravan;
Light a fire in the gloom
Of some dusty dining-room.
See the pictures on the walls.
Heroes, fights, and festivals;
And in a corner find the toys
Of the old Egyptian boys.