Poèmes sur le thème : wanderer

Poèmes sur le thème « wanderer » sur Poets.by.

RêveurWilliam Blake

A DREAM

Once a dream did weave a shade O'er my angel-guarded bed, That an emmet lost its way Where on grass methought I lay. Troubled, wildered, and forlorn, Dark, benighted, travel-worn, Over many a tangle spray, All heart-broke, I heard her say: "Oh my children! do they cry, Do they hear their father sigh? Now they look abroad to see, Now return and weep for me." Pitying, I dropped a tear: But I saw a glow-worm near, Who replied, "What wailing wight Calls the watchman of the night?
TristeWilliam Shakespeare

Sonnet 50: How heavy do I journey on the way

How heavy do I journey on the way, When what I seek, my weary travel's end, Doth teach that ease and that repose to say, 'Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend!' The beast that bears me, tired with my woe, Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me, As if by some instinct the wretch did know His rider lov'd not speed, being made from thee: The bloody spur cannot provoke him on, That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide, Which heavily he answers with a groan, More sharp to me than spurring to his side; For that same groan doth put this in my mind, My grief lies onward, and my joy behind.
InspiréWalt Whitman

From Paumanok Starting.

FROM Paumanock starting, I fly like a bird, Around and around to soar, to sing the idea of all; To the north betaking myself, to sing there arctic songs, To Kanada, till I absorb Kanada in myself—to Michigan then, To Wisconsin, Iowa, Minnesota, to sing their songs, (they are inimitable;) Then to Ohio and Indiana to sing theirs—to Missouri and Kansas and Arkansas, to sing theirs, To Tennessee and Kentucky—to the Carolinas and Georgia, to sing theirs, To Texas, and so along up toward California, to roam accepted everywhere; To sing first, (to the tap of the war-drum, if need be,) The idea of all—of the western world, one and inseparable. And then the song of each member of These States.
RêveurStephen Crane

Ay, workman, make me a dream,

Ay, workman, make me a dream, A dream for my love. Cunningly weave sunlight, Breezes, and flowers. Let it be of the cloth of meadows. And -- good workman -- And let there be a man walking thereon.
TristeRupert Brooke

Sonnet: I said I splendidly loved you; it's not true

I said I splendidly loved you; it's not true. Such long swift tides stir not a land-locked sea. On gods or fools the high risk falls -- on you -- The clean clear bitter-sweet that's not for me. Love soars from earth to ecstasies unwist. Love is flung Lucifer-like from Heaven to Hell. But -- there are wanderers in the middle mist, Who cry for shadows, clutch, and cannot tell Whether they love at all, or, loving, whom: An old song's lady, a fool in fancy dress, Or phantoms, or their own face on the gloom; For love of Love, or from heart's loneliness. Pleasure's not theirs, nor pain. They doubt, and sigh, And do not love at all. Of these am I.
TristeRobert Burns

398. Lord Gregory: A Ballad

O MIRK, mirk is this midnight hour, And loud the tempest’s roar; A waefu’ wanderer seeks thy tower, Lord Gregory, ope thy door. An exile frae her father’s ha’, And a’ for loving thee; At least some pity on me shaw, If love it may na be. Lord Gregory, mind’st thou not the grove By bonie Irwine side, Where first I own’d that virgin love I lang, lang had denied. How aften didst thou pledge and vow Thou wad for aye be mine! And my fond heart, itsel’ sae true, It ne’er mistrusted thine.