Tuesday Poem – Travel (Robert Louis Stevenson)

Last week I was inspired by a number of Tuesday Poets who decided to post poems that they remembered from their childhood, or posted a link to an incredible young boy who recited poetry (!)

In that vein, I began thinking about the poems of my childhood. I inherited my passion for poetry from my mother, who would recite long epics to me from a very young age (think, the Rime of the Ancient Mariner, The Highwayman) and who would buy me poetry books and read them to me and my sister at bedtime (Wordsworth, Stevenson, Kipling, Tennyson, Frost). I am indebted to her for my adoration of everything literary and poetic, and so this is a post for her this week.

So, a poem from a poet whom my mother would read to me and who I used to learn ‘off-by-heart’ when I was a little one.

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; -