Traveling – It leaves you speechless, and then turns you into a story teller.Anonymous
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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 ciders 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 its going.
by Janice Gould
BEYOND the East the sunrise, beyond the West the sea,
And East and West the wander-thirst that will not let me be;
It works in me like madness, dear, to bid me say good-bye;
For the seas call, and the stars call, and oh! the call of the sky!
I know not where the white road runs, nor what the blue hills are;
But a man can have the sun for a friend, and for his guide a star;
And there’s no end of voyaging when once the voice is heard,
For the rivers call, and the roads call, and oh! the call of the bird!
Yonder the long horizon lies, and there by night and day
The old ships draw to home again, the young ships sail away;
And come I may, but go I must, and, if men ask you why,
You may put the blame on the stars and the sun and the white road and the sky.