Travel

I guess this is a day for poems. I've been wanting to share this one for some time. But this morning, while visiting Grampy and You, I was pushed to actually do so. Grampy regularly features children's poems from older books. And then, what a surprise to see that Lin also posted a great poem at Duck and Wheel with String.

Let me digress a moment. I was steeped in poetry as a child, and I loved it! (Still do) The picture above is the cover of my copy of A Child's Garden of Verses, by Robert Louis Stevenson. This edition is illustrated by Eulalie Osgood Grover who was best known as the creator of the "Sunbonnet Babies." I can hardly choose which was my favorite book as a child, but this one would surely have been in the running.

Anyway, Grampy shared a poem called "The Circus." It's not from this book, but from another favorite book of poems I had as a child. The exotic nature of a circus just naturally led me to thinking of this poem. And between my grandmother and poems like this one, I have a terminal case of Wanderlust.

Enough talking... I've scanned the illustrations that appear in this edition with the poem. Enjoy!



Travel

I should like to rise and go
Where the golden apples grow--
Where beyond another sky
Parrot islands anchored lie,
And, watched by cockatoos and goats,
Lonely Carusoes building boats--
Where in the 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 are the forests, hot as fire,
Wide as England, tall as a spire,
Full of apes and cocoa-nuts
And the negro hunters' huts--
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 when 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 the corner find the toys
Of the old Egyptian boys.



See A Blue Rubber Ball
See Windy Nights
See Wander Thirst