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Best Famous Traversing Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Traversing poems. This is a select list of the best famous Traversing poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Traversing poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of traversing poems.

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Written by Emily Dickinson | Create an image from this poem

This Consciousness that is aware

 This Consciousness that is aware
Of Neighbors and the Sun
Will be the one aware of Death
And that itself alone

Is traversing the interval
Experience between
And most profound experiment
Appointed unto Men --

How adequate unto itself
Its properties shall be
Itself unto itself and none
Shall make discovery.

Adventure most unto itself
The Soul condemned to be --
Attended by a single Hound
Its own identity.


Written by Walt Whitman | Create an image from this poem

Unnamed Lands

 NATIONS ten thousand years before These States, and many times ten thousand years before
 These
 States; 
Garner’d clusters of ages, that men and women like us grew up and travel’d their
 course, and pass’d on; 
What vast-built cities—what orderly republics—what pastoral tribes and nomads; 
What histories, rulers, heroes, perhaps transcending all others; 
What laws, customs, wealth, arts, traditions;
What sort of marriage—what costumes—what physiology and phrenology; 
What of liberty and slavery among them—what they thought of death and the soul; 
Who were witty and wise—who beautiful and poetic—who brutish and
 undevelop’d; 
Not a mark, not a record remains—And yet all remains. 

O I know that those men and women were not for nothing, any more than we are for nothing;
I know that they belong to the scheme of the world every bit as much as we now belong to
 it,
 and as all will henceforth belong to it. 

Afar they stand—yet near to me they stand, 
Some with oval countenances, learn’d and calm, 
Some naked and savage—Some like huge collections of insects, 
Some in tents—herdsmen, patriarchs, tribes, horsemen,
Some prowling through woods—Some living peaceably on farms, laboring, reaping,
 filling
 barns, 
Some traversing paved avenues, amid temples, palaces, factories, libraries, shows, courts,
 theatres, wonderful monuments. 

Are those billions of men really gone? 
Are those women of the old experience of the earth gone? 
Do their lives, cities, arts, rest only with us?
Did they achieve nothing for good, for themselves? 

I believe of all those billions of men and women that fill’d the unnamed lands, every
 one
 exists this hour, here or elsewhere, invisible to us, in exact proportion to what he or
 she
 grew from in life, and out of what he or she did, felt, became, loved, sinn’d, in
 life. 

I believe that was not the end of those nations, or any person of them, any more than this
 shall be the end of my nation, or of me; 
Of their languages, governments, marriage, literature, products, games, wars, manners,
 crimes,
 prisons, slaves, heroes, poets, I suspect their results curiously await in the yet unseen
 world—counterparts of what accrued to them in the seen world. 
I suspect I shall meet them there,
I suspect I shall there find each old particular of those unnamed lands.
Written by Siegfried Sassoon | Create an image from this poem

Counter-Attack

 We’d gained our first objective hours before 
While dawn broke like a face with blinking eyes, 
Pallid, unshaved and thirsty, blind with smoke. 
Things seemed all right at first. We held their line, 
With bombers posted, Lewis guns well placed, 
And clink of shovels deepening the shallow trench. 
The place was rotten with dead; green clumsy legs 
High-booted, sprawled and grovelled along the saps 
And trunks, face downward, in the sucking mud, 
Wallowed like trodden sand-bags loosely filled; 
And naked sodden buttocks, mats of hair, 
Bulged, clotted heads slept in the plastering slime. 
And then the rain began,—the jolly old rain! 

A yawning soldier knelt against the bank, 
Staring across the morning blear with fog; 
He wondered when the Allemands would get busy; 
And then, of course, they started with five-nines 
Traversing, sure as fate, and never a dud. 
Mute in the clamour of shells he watched them burst 
Spouting dark earth and wire with gusts from hell, 
While posturing giants dissolved in drifts of smoke. 
He crouched and flinched, dizzy with galloping fear, 
Sick for escape,—loathing the strangled horror 
And butchered, frantic gestures of the dead. 

An officer came blundering down the trench: 
‘Stand-to and man the fire-step!’ On he went... 
Gasping and bawling, ‘Fire-step ... counter-attack!’ 
Then the haze lifted. Bombing on the right 
Down the old sap: machine-guns on the left; 
And stumbling figures looming out in front. 
‘O Christ, they’re coming at us!’ Bullets spat, 
And he remembered his rifle ... rapid fire... 
And started blazing wildly ... then a bang 
Crumpled and spun him sideways, knocked him out 
To grunt and wriggle: none heeded him; he choked 
And fought the flapping veils of smothering gloom, 
Lost in a blurred confusion of yells and groans... 
Down, and down, and down, he sank and drowned, 
Bleeding to death. The counter-attack had failed.

Book: Reflection on the Important Things