Yesterday, I embarrassed myself by posting about Edna St Vincent Millay’s poem, ‘Travel’ as if I’d just read it for the first time when, actually, I’d posted about it three years ago.

The upside of my mistake was that I was reminded that I have a book of her poetry, ‘A Few Figs From Thistles’.

I’d like to share her poem, ‘To The Not Impossible Him’ from that book. It made me smile and it referred to travel.

Read it and ask yourself this: have you travelled enough?

To The Not Impossible Him

by Edna St Vincent Millay

HOW shall I know, unless I go
 To Cairo and Cathay,
 Whether or not this blessed spot
 Is blest in every way?
 
Now it may be, the flower for me
 Is this beneath my nose;
 How shall I tell, unless I smell
 The Carthaginian rose?
 
The fabric of my faithful love
 No power shall dim or ravel
 Whilst I stay here,–but oh, my dear
 If I should ever travel!