Joyce Kilmer Poems

  • 51.  
    (For Richardson Little Wright)

  • 52.  
    (For A. K. K.)

  • 53.  
    Why didst thou carve thy speech laboriously,
    And match and blend thy words with curious art? For Song, one saith, is but a human heart
  • 54.  
    (In memory of Joseph Mary Plunkett)

  • 55.  
    The air is like a butterfly
    With frail blue wings.The happy earth looks at the sky
  • 56.  
    Why is that wanton gossip Fame
    So dumb about this man's affairs?Why do we titter at his name
  • 57.  
    There's a brook on the side of Greylock that used to be full of trout,
    But there's nothing there now but minnows; they say it is all fished out.I fished there many a Summer day some twenty years ago,
  • 58.  
    No longer of Him be it said
    “He hath no place to lay His head.”
  • 59.  
    (For Aline)

  • 60.  
    (For Eleanor Rogers Cox)

  • 61.  
    When Dawn strides out to wake a dewy farm
    Across green fields and yellow hills of hay The little twittering birds laugh in his way
  • 62.  
    (For Aline)

  • 63.  
    (For Mrs. Henry Mills Alden)

  • 64.  
    In a wood they call the Rouge Bouquet
    There is a new-made grave to-day,Built by never a spade nor pick
  • 65.  
    My shoulders ache beneath my pack
    (Lie easier, Cross, upon His back).
  • 66.  
    Vain is the chiming of forgotten bells
    That the wind sways above a ruined shrine.Vainer his voice in whom no longer dwells
  • 67.  
    When I am tired of earnest men,
    Intense and keen and sharp and clever,Pursuing fame with brush or pen
  • 68.  
    Squire Adam had two wives, they say,
    Two wives had he, for his delight,He kissed and clypt them all the day
  • 69.  
    In alien earth, across a troubled sea,
    His body lies that was so fair and young. His mouth is stopped, with half his songs unsung;
Total 69 poems written by Joyce Kilmer

Poem of the day

Percy Bysshe Shelley Poem
An Allegory
 by Percy Bysshe Shelley

A portal as of shadowy adamant
Stands yawning on the highway of the life
Which we all tread, a cavern huge and gaunt;
Around it rages an unceasing strife
Of shadows, like the restless clouds that haunt
The gap of some cleft mountain, lifted high
Into the whirlwinds of the upper sky.

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