Trees and Other PoemsGeorge H. Doran Company, 1914 - 75 pagine Trees and Other Poems by Joyce Kilmer, first published in 1914, is a rare manuscript, the original residing in one of the great libraries of the world. This book is a reproduction of that original, which has been scanned and cleaned by state-of-the-art publishing tools for better readability and enhanced appreciation. Restoration Editors' mission is to bring long out of print manuscripts back to life. Some smudges, annotations or unclear text may still exist, due to permanent damage to the original work. We believe the literary significance of the text justifies offering this reproduction, allowing a new generation to appreciate it. |
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ALEXIS continued Aline altar light bank of sod beg for bread Beneath BLACKBIRD buttercup bright child Christ city street daily tread Country DAVE LILLY continued DELICATESSEN continued dream dwell earth eyes face Fame fight fished flame flash FOLLY fool foolish FOURTH SHEPHERD continued GIRL AND GROCER'S God's golden Greylock GROCER'S BOY hair hand heart Heaven hills huddled sheep king kneel and pray Lady Folly's Lamb of God lane and city Laurence Lilly's ghost lips that utter look Lord Love's MARTIN MATE WHO DIED MEMORIAL DAY merry minnows mirth night Old Martin's pain peace PENNIES Poems POET WHO KILLED ride saint SANTA CRUZ Serene shame share St shining silent sing sleep smile song soul spoke splendid stars Suffern sweet tears there's thing thrill tread Country lane tree trout TWELVE-FORTY-FIVE continued University of California Vagabond vagrant feet WAVERLEY wings YOUNG POET
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Pagina 19 - A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in Summer wear A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain.
Pagina 54 - Vain is the chiming of forgotten bells That the wind sways above a ruined shrine. Vainer his voice in whom no longer dwells Hunger that craves immortal Bread and Wine. Light songs we breathe that perish with our breath Out of our lips that have not kissed the rod. They shall not live who have not tasted death; They only sing who are struck dumb by God.
Pagina 69 - But a house that has done what a house should do, a house that has sheltered life, That has put its loving wooden arms around a man and his wife, A house that has echoed a baby's laugh and held up his stumbling feet, Is the saddest sight, when it's left alone, that ever your eyes could meet.
Pagina 33 - Upon the bleak and sombre earth. Some people ask : What cruel chance Made Martin's life so sad a story? Martin? Why, he exhaled romance And wore an overcoat of glory. A fleck of sunlight in the street, A horse, a book, a girl who smiled, — Such visions made each moment sweet For this receptive, ancient child.
Pagina 23 - About his sex and his soul; But the old man listens, and smokes his pipe, And polishes its bowl. There should be a club for poets Who have come to seventy year. They should sit in a great hall drinking Red wine and golden beer. They would shuffle in of an evening, Each one to his cushioned seat, And there would be mellow talking And silence rich and sweet. There is no peace to be taken With poets who are young, For they worry about the wars to be fought And the songs that must be sung. But the old...
Pagina 15 - ... sake Are we so blatantly awake? What precious secret is our freight? What king must be abroad so late? Perhaps Death roams the hills to-night And we rush forth to give him fight. Or else, perhaps, we speed his way To some remote unthinking prey. Perhaps a woman writhes in pain And listens — listens for the train! The train, that like an angel sings, The train, with healing on its wings. Now "Hawthorne!
Pagina 16 - The midnight train is slow and old But of it let this thing be told, To its high honor be it said It carries people home to bed. My cottage lamp shines white and clear. God bless the train that brought me here.
Pagina 33 - What cruel chance Made Martin's life so sad a story?" Martin? Why, he exhaled romance, And wore an overcoat of glory. A fleck of sunlight in the street, A horse, a book, a girl who smiled, Such visions made each moment sweet For this receptive ancient child. Because it was old Martin's lot To be, not make, a decoration, Shall we then scorn him, having not His genius of appreciation? Rich joy and love he got and gave; His heart was merry as his dress; Pile laurel wreaths upon his grave Who did not...
Pagina 55 - He hath no place to lay His head." In every land a constant lamp Flames by His small and mighty camp. There is no strange and distant place That is not gladdened by His face. And every nation kneels to hail The Splendour shining through Its veil. Cloistered beside the shouting street, Silent, He calls me to His feet. Imprisoned for His love of me He makes my spirit greatly free. And through my lips that uttered sin The King of Glory enters in.
Pagina 20 - T>RIGHT stars, yellow stars, flashing through *~^ the air, Are you errant strands of Lady Mary's hair? As she slits the cloudy veil and bends down through, Do you fall across her cheeks and over heaven too? Gay stars, little stars, you are little eyes, Eyes of baby angels playing in the skies. Now and then a winged child turns his merry face Down toward the spinning world — what a funny place ! Jesus Christ came from the Cross (Christ receive my soul!) In each perfect hand and foot there was a...