The Unexplorer

There was a road ran past our house
Too lovely to explore.
I asked my mother once--she said
That if you followed where it led
It brought you to the milk-man's door.
(That's why I have not traveled more.)

Edna St. Vincent Millay

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Edna St. Vincent Millay

Rosemary

Edna St. Vincent Millay, Simple Poetry

Ashes Of Life

Edna St. Vincent Millay, Simple Poetry

Interim

Edna St. Vincent Millay, Simple Poetry

First Fig

Edna St. Vincent Millay, Simple Poetry

English

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The Traveled Man

Sometimes I wish the railroads all were torn out,
    The ships all sunk among the coral strands.
I am so very weary, yea so worn out,
    With tales of those who visit foreign lands.

When asked to dine, to meet these traveled people,
    My soup seems brewed from cemetery bones.
The fish grows cold on some cathedral steeple,
    I miss two courses while I stare at thrones.

I'm forced to leave my salad quite untasted,
    Some musty, moldy temple to explore.
The ices, fruit and coffee all are wasted
    While into realms of ancient art I soar.

I'd rather take my chance of life and reason,
    If in a den of roaring lions hurled
Than for a single year, ay, for one season,
    To dwell with folks who'd traveled round the world.

So patroni...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Journey

        Ah, could I lay me down in this long grass
        And close my eyes, and let the quiet wind
        Blow over me--I am so tired, so tired
        Of passing pleasant places!    All my life,
        Following Care along the dusty road,
        Have I looked back at loveliness and sighed;
        Yet at my hand an unrelenting hand
        Tugged ever, and I passed.    All my life long
        Over my shoulder have I looked at peace;
        And now I fain would lie in this long grass
        And close my eyes.
            Yet onward!
                        Cat birds call
        Through the long afternoon, and creeks at dusk
        Are guttural.    Whip-poor-wills wake and cry,
        Drawing the twilight close about their throats.
        Only my he...

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Roofs

(For Amelia Josephine Burr)



The road is wide and the stars are out and the breath of the night is sweet,
And this is the time when wanderlust should seize upon my feet.
But I'm glad to turn from the open road and the starlight on my face,
And to leave the splendour of out-of-doors for a human dwelling place.

I never have seen a vagabond who really liked to roam
All up and down the streets of the world and not to have a home:
The tramp who slept in your barn last night and left at break of day
Will wander only until he finds another place to stay.

A gypsy-man will sleep in his cart with canvas overhead;
Or else he'll go into his tent when it is time for bed.
He'll sit on the grass and take his ease so long as the sun is high,
But when it is dark he wa...

Alfred Joyce Kilmer

Travel

        The railroad track is miles away,
            And the day is loud with voices speaking,
        Yet there isn't a train goes by all day
            But I hear its whistle shrieking.

        All night there isn't a train goes by,
            Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming
        But I see its cinders red on the sky,
            And hear its engine steaming.

        My heart is warm with the friends I make,
            And better friends I'll not be knowing,
        Yet there isn't a train I wouldn't take,
            No matter where it's going.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

The Undiscovered Country

Man has explored all countries and all lands,
And made his own the secrets of each clime.
Now, ere the world has fully reached its prime,
The oval earth lies compassed with steel bands,
The seas are slaves to ships that touch all strands,
    And even the haughty elements, sublime
    And bold, yield him their secrets for all time,
And speed like lackeys forth at his commands.

Still, though he search from shore to distant shore,
    And no strange realms, no unlocated plains
Are left for his attainment and control,
Yet is there one more kingdom to explore.
    Go, know thyself, O man! there yet remains
The undiscovered country of thy soul!

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The Undiscovered Country

Man has explored all countries and all lands,
    And made his own the secrets of each clime.
    Now, ere the world has fully reached its prime,
The oval earth lies compassed with steel bands;
The seas are slaves to ships that touch all strands,
    And even the haughty elements sublime
    And bold, yield him their secrets for all time,
And speed like lackeys forth at his commands.

Still, though he search from shore to distant shore,
    And no strange realms, no unlocated plains
Are left for his attainment and control,
Yet is there one more kingdom to explore.
    Go, know thyself, O man! there yet remains
The undiscovered country of thy soul!

Ella Wheeler Wilcox