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Trees and Other Poems
Collection of poems from the American poet and literary critic whose works celebrated the natural world and his religious faith and who was killed at the Second Battle of Marne in 1918.
52 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1914
74 people are currently reading
249 people want to read
About the author
Joyce Kilmer
125 books25 followersPeople best know "
Trees
" (1913), work of American poet Alfred Joyce Kilmer, whom World War I killed.
Works of this prolific journalist, literary critic, lecturer, and editor celebrated the common beauty of the natural world as well as his religious faith; people remember him most for this short poem, published in the collection Trees and Other Poems in 1914.
Despite his mostly unknown works, anthologies publish frequently a select few of his popular poems. Several contemporary critics of Kilmer and modern scholars disparaged his too simple, overly sentimental work and suggested his far too traditional, even archaic style.
Critics often compared Kilmer, considered the leading Catholic poet and lecturer of his generation in America to British contemporaries Gilbert Keith Chesterton (1874–1936) and Hilaire Belloc (1870–1953). Army of the United States deployed him to Europe at the time during the First World War as a sergeant in the 165th United States infantry regiment; the second battle of the Marne in 1918 killed Kilmer at 31 years of age.
Works of this prolific journalist, literary critic, lecturer, and editor celebrated the common beauty of the natural world as well as his religious faith; people remember him most for this short poem, published in the collection Trees and Other Poems in 1914.
Despite his mostly unknown works, anthologies publish frequently a select few of his popular poems. Several contemporary critics of Kilmer and modern scholars disparaged his too simple, overly sentimental work and suggested his far too traditional, even archaic style.
Critics often compared Kilmer, considered the leading Catholic poet and lecturer of his generation in America to British contemporaries Gilbert Keith Chesterton (1874–1936) and Hilaire Belloc (1870–1953). Army of the United States deployed him to Europe at the time during the First World War as a sergeant in the 165th United States infantry regiment; the second battle of the Marne in 1918 killed Kilmer at 31 years of age.
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Displaying 1 - 29 of 52 reviews
July 12, 2024
Some very moving poetry both secular and Christian.
June 21, 2017
The reason why I read this book was that I came across this quote:
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
The quote was credited to Joyce Kilmer and came from Trees & Other Poems, and I thought it was the whole poem. My first reaction was that this was a really great one. Of course I was mistaken. This was just the beginning of the poem, the rest goes like this:
A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
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.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
This longer version of the poem is a bit different from the two line poem I had first read. When I had read it to the end, it turned out to be a religous poem, and I think it really is a beautiful one at that.
So I read the rest of the book, expecting something up to that quality. Unfortunately, most of the rest of the book didn't really do anything for me. I thought a lot of the poems were judgmental in tone, and word use wasn't good either. I felt they were in need of editing, and that they could have been shortened to make them stronger.
I thought Trees, Dave Lilly, and Easter were the best ones. Easter is the shortest one in the book and is just a clear, simple image which I think Kilmer worked well. Dave Lilly is a bit different. In it the narrator is recollecting a man he once knew, a man that had been a fisherman, and a drunk. There was something about that one that got me. The house with no one in it was pretty good too.
Most of the poems have aged rather badly in my view, but I can't help wondering what might have been in Kilmer had lived longer. He died so young that one can't really say what he would have been like as a mature artist.
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
The quote was credited to Joyce Kilmer and came from Trees & Other Poems, and I thought it was the whole poem. My first reaction was that this was a really great one. Of course I was mistaken. This was just the beginning of the poem, the rest goes like this:
A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
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.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
This longer version of the poem is a bit different from the two line poem I had first read. When I had read it to the end, it turned out to be a religous poem, and I think it really is a beautiful one at that.
So I read the rest of the book, expecting something up to that quality. Unfortunately, most of the rest of the book didn't really do anything for me. I thought a lot of the poems were judgmental in tone, and word use wasn't good either. I felt they were in need of editing, and that they could have been shortened to make them stronger.
I thought Trees, Dave Lilly, and Easter were the best ones. Easter is the shortest one in the book and is just a clear, simple image which I think Kilmer worked well. Dave Lilly is a bit different. In it the narrator is recollecting a man he once knew, a man that had been a fisherman, and a drunk. There was something about that one that got me. The house with no one in it was pretty good too.
Most of the poems have aged rather badly in my view, but I can't help wondering what might have been in Kilmer had lived longer. He died so young that one can't really say what he would have been like as a mature artist.
July 12, 2017
"I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
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.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree."
This poem in it's beautiful simplicity is very close to Emily Dickinson in style and innocence. The mystical ecology almost recalls the Romantics pantheistic verse (Kilmer himself was a Roman Catholic) and the personification is so perfectly used that it amazes.
Joyce Kilmer would later become a Sergeant in the first world war and was killed in action July of 1918.
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
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.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree."
This poem in it's beautiful simplicity is very close to Emily Dickinson in style and innocence. The mystical ecology almost recalls the Romantics pantheistic verse (Kilmer himself was a Roman Catholic) and the personification is so perfectly used that it amazes.
Joyce Kilmer would later become a Sergeant in the first world war and was killed in action July of 1918.
June 3, 2025
"i think I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree.
poems are made by fools like me, but only God can make a tree."
poems are made by fools like me, but only God can make a tree."
February 22, 2017
“I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth’s flowing breast;
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.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree."
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth’s flowing breast;
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.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree."
March 1, 2022
The poetry during this time still fascinates me.
June 24, 2023
just to annoy kilmer, I will now write poetry (as a woman) even more
aside from that and other stupid things coming out of his pen, kilmer is, at times, brilliant in his words
aside from that and other stupid things coming out of his pen, kilmer is, at times, brilliant in his words
March 8, 2022
Joyce Kilmer is one of those poets who manage to move your heart while getting you to scramble to the nearest dictionary (or laptop) to look up the meaning of a couple of infuriatingly frustrating words.
Contrary to everyone else whose read his simply enchanting works "Trees" does not happen to be my favourite poem. "Main Street" does. I just felt it spoke out more to me. His love for the Main Street was so prominent, so lovely in his personification that I too wanted to visit it and see firsthand it's incomparable beauty and coziness.
His fond reminiscing about how the winter ice made the street a peaceful white and possibly the most human kind of street in the world just goes to show his personal attachment to the boulevard. In comparison, the city street with its bustling always happened to be crushed by the thousand vehicles that ran to and fro. It was like an unlucky person who only ever feels one thing: the weight of traffic on his chest. It could never be human like Main Street was.
The precise personification itself describes the connection Kilmer had with the piece of cement and tar. His narrow street would personally know the carriages and the children that would come down to play. It would always sing its music as the auto mobiles came charging down. Kilmer even likened this "Main street" to the infinite space above him. Thanking God for the galaxy that looked like a street across the sky. He wished he could walk on that starry street that seemed like the glorious heaven he dreamed off.
Contrary to everyone else whose read his simply enchanting works "Trees" does not happen to be my favourite poem. "Main Street" does. I just felt it spoke out more to me. His love for the Main Street was so prominent, so lovely in his personification that I too wanted to visit it and see firsthand it's incomparable beauty and coziness.
I like to look at the blossomy track of the moon upon the sea,
But it isn't half so fine a sight as Main Street used to be
When it all was covered over with a couple of feet of snow,
And over the crisp and radiant road the ringing sleighs would go.
His fond reminiscing about how the winter ice made the street a peaceful white and possibly the most human kind of street in the world just goes to show his personal attachment to the boulevard. In comparison, the city street with its bustling always happened to be crushed by the thousand vehicles that ran to and fro. It was like an unlucky person who only ever feels one thing: the weight of traffic on his chest. It could never be human like Main Street was.
A city street that is busy and wide is ground by a thousand wheels,
And a burden of traffic on its breast is all it ever feels:
It is dully conscious of weight and speed and of work that never ends,
But it cannot be human like Main Street, and recognise its friends.
The precise personification itself describes the connection Kilmer had with the piece of cement and tar. His narrow street would personally know the carriages and the children that would come down to play. It would always sing its music as the auto mobiles came charging down. Kilmer even likened this "Main street" to the infinite space above him. Thanking God for the galaxy that looked like a street across the sky. He wished he could walk on that starry street that seemed like the glorious heaven he dreamed off.
God be thanked for the Milky Way that runs across the sky,
That's the path that my feet would tread whenever I have to die.
Some folks call it a Silver Sword, and some a Pearly Crown,
But the only thing I think it is, is Main Street, Heaventown.
August 15, 2019
I read this collection in one night and was frankly entranced, latching on to pieces of imagery. When I was looking through the poems again a couple days later, they did feel a little Sunday Schoolish in their structure and their spelled-out morals. The strong imagery in “The Apartment House,” for instance, died in the second stanza when Kilmer started waxing on with platitudes about home. A few lines I loved are these:
“Easter” is a tiny poem, hardly longer than a haiku, and yet it really made me smile: “The air is like a butterfly / With frail blue wings. / The happy earth looks at the sky / And sings.”
Finally, I was amused by Kilmer’s commentary on other poets. In “Old Poets,” for instance, he contrasts passionate, jabbering youngsters with quiet, older poets (presumably like himself). Perhaps I mostly enjoyed it because I’ve felt a bit beaten down by my 8-5 job and have started shaking my head at the energy of young people--even if I still am one! But whatever the reason, I really liked the unconcerned peace portrayed in the last stanza: “But the old man knows that he’s in his chair / And that god’s on His throne in the sky. / So he sits by the fire in comfort / And he lets the world spin by.” And speaking of Kilmer’s poems about poets, I have to say that the truly savage “To Certain Poets” (which I sincerely hope is Kilmer being grouchy about young upstarts and not being flagrantly sexist) made me laugh out loud.
“The darts of toil and sorrow, sent / Against your peaceful beauty, are / As foolish and as impotent / As winds that blow against a star.”
“Through miles on weary miles of night / That stretch relentless in my way / My lantern burns serene and white, / An unexhausted cup of day”
“Unhymned by you, what is the dawn?”
“Easter” is a tiny poem, hardly longer than a haiku, and yet it really made me smile: “The air is like a butterfly / With frail blue wings. / The happy earth looks at the sky / And sings.”
Finally, I was amused by Kilmer’s commentary on other poets. In “Old Poets,” for instance, he contrasts passionate, jabbering youngsters with quiet, older poets (presumably like himself). Perhaps I mostly enjoyed it because I’ve felt a bit beaten down by my 8-5 job and have started shaking my head at the energy of young people--even if I still am one! But whatever the reason, I really liked the unconcerned peace portrayed in the last stanza: “But the old man knows that he’s in his chair / And that god’s on His throne in the sky. / So he sits by the fire in comfort / And he lets the world spin by.” And speaking of Kilmer’s poems about poets, I have to say that the truly savage “To Certain Poets” (which I sincerely hope is Kilmer being grouchy about young upstarts and not being flagrantly sexist) made me laugh out loud.
Want to read
January 11, 2012My edition is not listed. It is the 1914 hardcover with dust jacket. I got it from a used book bin, an found inside: An old newspaper clipping about the death of the NJ oak that inspired the "Trees" poem, an embroidered book mark about the Golden Rule, an old postcard thanking a Barnville man for his donation to Boy's Town. I love the stuff I find inside used books.
November 5, 2015
Strong poetry with a very religious basis. The poetry is fun to read, even more so when read aloud. I really liked Memorial Day, The Twelve-Forty-Five, and The House with Nobody in It. I found the book in our school library. It was printed in 1914 and found its way into the library in 1947. I am really glad this little gem was still available in print.
December 31, 2018
Maybe this book is worthy of more than 3 stars. I don’t really like poetry so my rating isn’t necessarily fair. I memorized Trees, enjoyed that one and I liked The House with Nobody In It and for some reason, Dave Lilly. I didn’t really understand most of the poems! I really really want to like poetry but I just don’t that much. But I’ll keep trying. 😃
February 1, 2019
What can you say about this short poem...I'm 81 now and still remember everyword...still love trees .
I wish every child would remember this poem...it does bring back memories..and I'm so lucky to live in the N.W..can't turn around without bumping into a TREE...🌲
I wish every child would remember this poem...it does bring back memories..and I'm so lucky to live in the N.W..can't turn around without bumping into a TREE...🌲
July 14, 2013
A regrettably VERY short volume of beautiful poetry.
April 5, 2014
Cute
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
.....
.....Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
.....
.....Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
April 13, 2015
Loved 'Trees' , 'To My Mother' and 'The House with Nobody in It' can read those poems thousand times but still wouldn't get enough of it!!
October 20, 2022
I first heard of Joyce Kilmer's "Trees" long ago and it is a favorite but after hearing the Old Time Radio production Family Theater episode about his life, which is quite interesting and way too short, I decided to read some more of his poems. Some I liked more than others but I included the whole list below. I especially liked "The House with Nobody in It". Having lived in New Brunswick, New Jersey, his birth place, I was wondering about what places he liked to go to and how different it must have been in the late 19th century and early 20th century. Truly sad that he died in France serving in the first world war. Charles Sorley, another poet met that fate too, being far younger.
*The Twelve-Forty-Five
*Pennies
*Trees
*Stars
*Old Poets
*Delicatessen
*Servant Girl and Grocer's Boy
*Wealth
*Martin
*The Apartment House
*As Winds That Blow Against A Star
*St. Laurence
*To A Young Poet Who Killed Himself
*Memorial Day
*The Rosary
*Vision
*To Certain Poets
*Love's Lantern
*St. Alexis
*Folly
*Madness
*Poets
*Citizen of the World
*To a Blackbird and His Mate Who Died in the Spring
*The Fourth Shepherd
*Easter
*Mount Houvenkopf
*The House with Nobody in It
*Dave Lilly
*Alarm Clocks
*Waverley
As Winds That Blow Against A Star (For Aline) Now by what whim of wanton chance
Highlight (Yellow) | Page 19
Do radiant eyes know sombre days? And feet that shod in light should dance Walk weary and laborious ways? But rays from Heaven, white and whole, May penetrate the gloom of earth; And tears but nourish, in your soul, The glory of celestial mirth. The darts of toil and sorrow, sent Against your peaceful beauty, are As foolish and as impotent As winds that blow against a star.
Highlight (Yellow) | Page 34
The House with Nobody in It Whenever I walk to Suffern along the Erie track I go by a poor old farmhouse with its shingles broken and black. I suppose I've passed it a hundred times, but I always stop for a minute And look at the house, the tragic house, the house with nobody in it. I never have seen a haunted house, but I hear there are such things;
Highlight (Yellow) | Page 35
That they hold the talk of spirits, their mirth and sorrowings. I know this house isn't haunted, and I wish it were, I do; For it wouldn't be so lonely if it had a ghost or two. This house on the road to Suffern needs a dozen panes of glass, And somebody ought to weed the walk and take a scythe to the grass. It needs new paint and shingles, and the vines should be trimmed and tied; But what it needs the most of all is some people living inside.
Highlight (Yellow) | Page 35
If I had a lot of money and all my debts were paid I'd put a gang of men to work with brush and saw and spade. I'd buy that place and fix it up the way it used to be And I'd find some people who wanted a home and give it to them free. Now, a new house standing empty, with staring window and door, Looks idle, perhaps, and foolish, like a hat on its block in the store. But there's nothing mournful about it; it cannot be sad and lone
Highlight (Yellow) | Page 36
For the lack of something within it that it has never known. 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.
Highlight (Yellow) | Page 36
So whenever I go to Suffern along the Erie track I never go by the empty house without stopping and looking back, Yet it hurts me to look at the crumbling roof and the shutters fallen apart, For I can't help thinking the poor old house is a house with a broken heart.
*The Twelve-Forty-Five
*Pennies
*Trees
*Stars
*Old Poets
*Delicatessen
*Servant Girl and Grocer's Boy
*Wealth
*Martin
*The Apartment House
*As Winds That Blow Against A Star
*St. Laurence
*To A Young Poet Who Killed Himself
*Memorial Day
*The Rosary
*Vision
*To Certain Poets
*Love's Lantern
*St. Alexis
*Folly
*Madness
*Poets
*Citizen of the World
*To a Blackbird and His Mate Who Died in the Spring
*The Fourth Shepherd
*Easter
*Mount Houvenkopf
*The House with Nobody in It
*Dave Lilly
*Alarm Clocks
*Waverley
As Winds That Blow Against A Star (For Aline) Now by what whim of wanton chance
Highlight (Yellow) | Page 19
Do radiant eyes know sombre days? And feet that shod in light should dance Walk weary and laborious ways? But rays from Heaven, white and whole, May penetrate the gloom of earth; And tears but nourish, in your soul, The glory of celestial mirth. The darts of toil and sorrow, sent Against your peaceful beauty, are As foolish and as impotent As winds that blow against a star.
Highlight (Yellow) | Page 34
The House with Nobody in It Whenever I walk to Suffern along the Erie track I go by a poor old farmhouse with its shingles broken and black. I suppose I've passed it a hundred times, but I always stop for a minute And look at the house, the tragic house, the house with nobody in it. I never have seen a haunted house, but I hear there are such things;
Highlight (Yellow) | Page 35
That they hold the talk of spirits, their mirth and sorrowings. I know this house isn't haunted, and I wish it were, I do; For it wouldn't be so lonely if it had a ghost or two. This house on the road to Suffern needs a dozen panes of glass, And somebody ought to weed the walk and take a scythe to the grass. It needs new paint and shingles, and the vines should be trimmed and tied; But what it needs the most of all is some people living inside.
Highlight (Yellow) | Page 35
If I had a lot of money and all my debts were paid I'd put a gang of men to work with brush and saw and spade. I'd buy that place and fix it up the way it used to be And I'd find some people who wanted a home and give it to them free. Now, a new house standing empty, with staring window and door, Looks idle, perhaps, and foolish, like a hat on its block in the store. But there's nothing mournful about it; it cannot be sad and lone
Highlight (Yellow) | Page 36
For the lack of something within it that it has never known. 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.
Highlight (Yellow) | Page 36
So whenever I go to Suffern along the Erie track I never go by the empty house without stopping and looking back, Yet it hurts me to look at the crumbling roof and the shutters fallen apart, For I can't help thinking the poor old house is a house with a broken heart.
October 3, 2021
"Because the road was steep and long
And through a dark and lonely land,
the universe set upon my lips a song
And put a lantern in my hand..."
Very religious, not my style, and forgive me for my experiment, but I secularized some of the poems since the sentiment, the power did resonate with me. I vary between using love, the universe, Life, hope; all names for the divine, and think the universe is my favorite.
To My Mother
Gentlest of critics, does your memory hold
(I know it does) a record of the days
When I, a schoolboy, earned your generous praise
For halting verse and stories crudely told?
Over these childish scrawls the years have rolled,
They might not know the world's unfriendly gaze;
But still your smile shines down familiar ways,
Touches my words and turns their dross to gold.
More dear to-day than in that vanished time
Comes your nigh praise to make me proud and strong.
In my poor notes you hear Love's splendid chime,
So unto you does this, my work belong.
Take, then, a little gift of fragile rhyme:
Your heart will change it to authentic song.
Trees
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at the universe 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.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only the universe can make a tree.
Love's Lantern
(For Aline)
Because the road was steep and long
And through a dark and lonely land,
Love set upon my lips a song
And put a lantern in my hand.
Through miles on weary miles of night
That stretch relentless in my way
My lantern burns serene and white,
An unexhausted cup of day.
O golden lights and lights like wine,
How dim your boasted splendors are.
Behold this little lamp of mine;
It is more starlike than a star!
Mount Houvenkopf
Serene he stands, with mist serenely crowned,
And draws a cloak of trees about his breast.
The thunder roars but cannot break his rest
And from his rugged face the tempests bound.
He does not heed the angry lightning's wound,
The raging blizzard is his harmless guest,
And human life is but a passing jest
To him who sees Time spin the years around.
But fragile souls, in skyey reaches find
High vantage-points and view him from afar.
How low he seems to the ascended mind,
How brief he seems where all things endless are;
This little playmate of the mighty wind
This young companion of an ancient star.
Vision
(for Aline)
Homer, they tell us, was blind and could not see the beautiful faces
Looking up into his own and reflecting the joy of his dream,
Yet did he seem
Gifted with eyes that could follow the gods to their holiest places.
I have no vision of gods, not of Eros with love-arrows laden,
Jupiter thundering death or of Juno his white-breasted queen,
Yet I have seen
All of the joy of the world in the innocent heart of a maiden.
As Winds That Blow Against a Star
Now by what whim of wanton chance
Do radiant eyes know sombre days?
And feet that shod in light should dance
Walk weary and laborious ways?
But rays from Heaven, white and whole,
May penetrate the gloom of earth;
And tears but nourish, in your soul,
The glory of celestial mirth.
The darts of toil and sorrow, sent
Against your peaceful beauty, are
As foolish and as impotent
As winds that blow against a star.
And through a dark and lonely land,
the universe set upon my lips a song
And put a lantern in my hand..."
Very religious, not my style, and forgive me for my experiment, but I secularized some of the poems since the sentiment, the power did resonate with me. I vary between using love, the universe, Life, hope; all names for the divine, and think the universe is my favorite.
To My Mother
Gentlest of critics, does your memory hold
(I know it does) a record of the days
When I, a schoolboy, earned your generous praise
For halting verse and stories crudely told?
Over these childish scrawls the years have rolled,
They might not know the world's unfriendly gaze;
But still your smile shines down familiar ways,
Touches my words and turns their dross to gold.
More dear to-day than in that vanished time
Comes your nigh praise to make me proud and strong.
In my poor notes you hear Love's splendid chime,
So unto you does this, my work belong.
Take, then, a little gift of fragile rhyme:
Your heart will change it to authentic song.
Trees
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at the universe 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.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only the universe can make a tree.
Love's Lantern
(For Aline)
Because the road was steep and long
And through a dark and lonely land,
Love set upon my lips a song
And put a lantern in my hand.
Through miles on weary miles of night
That stretch relentless in my way
My lantern burns serene and white,
An unexhausted cup of day.
O golden lights and lights like wine,
How dim your boasted splendors are.
Behold this little lamp of mine;
It is more starlike than a star!
Mount Houvenkopf
Serene he stands, with mist serenely crowned,
And draws a cloak of trees about his breast.
The thunder roars but cannot break his rest
And from his rugged face the tempests bound.
He does not heed the angry lightning's wound,
The raging blizzard is his harmless guest,
And human life is but a passing jest
To him who sees Time spin the years around.
But fragile souls, in skyey reaches find
High vantage-points and view him from afar.
How low he seems to the ascended mind,
How brief he seems where all things endless are;
This little playmate of the mighty wind
This young companion of an ancient star.
Vision
(for Aline)
Homer, they tell us, was blind and could not see the beautiful faces
Looking up into his own and reflecting the joy of his dream,
Yet did he seem
Gifted with eyes that could follow the gods to their holiest places.
I have no vision of gods, not of Eros with love-arrows laden,
Jupiter thundering death or of Juno his white-breasted queen,
Yet I have seen
All of the joy of the world in the innocent heart of a maiden.
As Winds That Blow Against a Star
Now by what whim of wanton chance
Do radiant eyes know sombre days?
And feet that shod in light should dance
Walk weary and laborious ways?
But rays from Heaven, white and whole,
May penetrate the gloom of earth;
And tears but nourish, in your soul,
The glory of celestial mirth.
The darts of toil and sorrow, sent
Against your peaceful beauty, are
As foolish and as impotent
As winds that blow against a star.
July 20, 2018
This is a very odd little poetry collection, and I can see where a lot of contemporary readers would find it outdated. Kilmer drowns a lot of his pieces in a treacly sentimentality that has gone out of vogue, and many of his poems are also what could be considered excessively religious. The meter is often uneven as well, although Kilmer does experiment with rhyme schemes from poem to poem.
Most striking are the two angry poems in the collection - "To a Young Poet who Killed Himself" and "To Certain Poets" are notably different from the rest of the poems in the book. The former rails against the eponymous Young Poet, not only lamenting his death, but telling him that he "ruined the rug" where he killed himself and ending by calling him an ass, a major departure from the sanctimonious tone of the rest of Kilmer's work. The other angry poem seems to rant against women poets, ending by telling them to put down their pens and pick up their needles.
While I can't say that I especially enjoyed this book, it is an interesting piece of American literary history - the sort of poetry that largely gets left out of the classroom.
Most striking are the two angry poems in the collection - "To a Young Poet who Killed Himself" and "To Certain Poets" are notably different from the rest of the poems in the book. The former rails against the eponymous Young Poet, not only lamenting his death, but telling him that he "ruined the rug" where he killed himself and ending by calling him an ass, a major departure from the sanctimonious tone of the rest of Kilmer's work. The other angry poem seems to rant against women poets, ending by telling them to put down their pens and pick up their needles.
While I can't say that I especially enjoyed this book, it is an interesting piece of American literary history - the sort of poetry that largely gets left out of the classroom.
June 10, 2022
Book 103 out of 200 books
"Trees and Other Poems" by Joyce Kilmer
"Trees and Other Poems" is a short but beautiful collection of poems by the American soldier-poet Joyce Kilmer. His most well-known poem "Trees" is in this collection, as well as other underrated poems composed in various times throughout his life.
MY THOUGHTS:
I had a hard time reading this poetry collection because I felt tedious and lazy, but let us be candor here, the poems in this poetry collection is beautiful!
All the poems, similar to Pasternak's poetic nature because I just reviewed awhile back a poetry collection of Pasternak's, are Christian-themed. The type of poetry I'd consume not only for the Catholic themes but the verses that are memorable.
I'd forever remember this poetry collection as a beautiful one, I gladly recommend this poetry collection to anyone who wants to start reading poetry.
"Trees and Other Poems" by Joyce Kilmer
"Trees and Other Poems" is a short but beautiful collection of poems by the American soldier-poet Joyce Kilmer. His most well-known poem "Trees" is in this collection, as well as other underrated poems composed in various times throughout his life.
MY THOUGHTS:
I had a hard time reading this poetry collection because I felt tedious and lazy, but let us be candor here, the poems in this poetry collection is beautiful!
All the poems, similar to Pasternak's poetic nature because I just reviewed awhile back a poetry collection of Pasternak's, are Christian-themed. The type of poetry I'd consume not only for the Catholic themes but the verses that are memorable.
I'd forever remember this poetry collection as a beautiful one, I gladly recommend this poetry collection to anyone who wants to start reading poetry.
April 3, 2024
i read the poem trees for the first time in my fourth grade class. i remember mrs. skipper was teaching us how to write poetry and why it was important
i fell in love with this poem and memorized it. i grew up a lonely, only child and would often spend hours playing by myself outside.
everyday after school i would go to each of the big trees in my aunts front and backyard that i had named and greet and talk to each one. each tree had a different personality corresponding with the name i had given them and when i found this poem i would recite it to the trees when id get off the bus and be home alone for hours until either my mom or aunt would come home.
even though i was lonely, i never felt alone when i was sitting under my trees telling them about my day and reading the poem kilmer wrote for them
i fell in love with this poem and memorized it. i grew up a lonely, only child and would often spend hours playing by myself outside.
everyday after school i would go to each of the big trees in my aunts front and backyard that i had named and greet and talk to each one. each tree had a different personality corresponding with the name i had given them and when i found this poem i would recite it to the trees when id get off the bus and be home alone for hours until either my mom or aunt would come home.
even though i was lonely, i never felt alone when i was sitting under my trees telling them about my day and reading the poem kilmer wrote for them
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May 23, 2021I was expecting this to have more poetry about nature. I was mistaken. These lines were most surprising, and I want prepared for the crassness: "The rug is ruined where you bled;
It was a dirty way to die!
To put a bullet through your head
And make a silly woman cry!
You could not vex the merry stars
Nor make them heed you, dead or living.
Not all your puny anger mars
God's irresistible forgiving.
"Yes, God forgives and men forget,
And you're forgiven and forgotten.
You may be gaily sinning yet
And quick and fresh instead of rotten.
And when you think of love and fame
And all that might have come to pass,
Then don't you feel a little shame?
And don't you think you were an ass?"
It was a dirty way to die!
To put a bullet through your head
And make a silly woman cry!
You could not vex the merry stars
Nor make them heed you, dead or living.
Not all your puny anger mars
God's irresistible forgiving.
"Yes, God forgives and men forget,
And you're forgiven and forgotten.
You may be gaily sinning yet
And quick and fresh instead of rotten.
And when you think of love and fame
And all that might have come to pass,
Then don't you feel a little shame?
And don't you think you were an ass?"
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
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July 29, 2025This had a handful of lovely poems but overall not very good, I fear. It was pretty much all based on meter and rhyme which made it fast to read but the messages were overall simplistic and if not for some of the subjects of the poems (ex: complaining about how some poets are being to flirty and giving all the God fearing poets a bad rap) I would have almost thought it was a book of children's poems.
January 11, 2019
Good, not super.
My favorite poem was ~ Pennies ~ and it’s last lines were these:
“Lo, comfort blooms on pain, and peace on strife,
And gain on loss.
What is the key to Everlasting Life?
A blood-stained Cross.”
The author fought and died in World War I, so we could say he fits the classic mould of the poet-warrior.
My favorite poem was ~ Pennies ~ and it’s last lines were these:
“Lo, comfort blooms on pain, and peace on strife,
And gain on loss.
What is the key to Everlasting Life?
A blood-stained Cross.”
The author fought and died in World War I, so we could say he fits the classic mould of the poet-warrior.
April 17, 2023
I’d never heard of Joyce Kilmer before but I came across a poem by him on Facebook, and I was impressed by it so I did some research. I found that he was an American poet from the early 20th Century and that he fought in WW1 dying in 1918. I love the simplicity of his poetry, I like the Christian imagery.
September 26, 2022
I was excited when I found a first edition of this book for fifty cents at a flea market. I was able to read it in a couple of hours, and overall I enjoyed it. The poetry is a bit more rhyme heavy than I prefer, but still enjoyable.
May 13, 2023
I remember reading some of Kilmer in college American Lit class, especially "Trees", but I couldn't remember any other poem by him. Now I have read 30 others. While not my favorite poet, I enjoyed these poems.
December 23, 2023
Very simple, easy-to-read poems; topics tend to romantically recall quite common people, places, & things. Uses simple rhyming patterns through the whole collection, and I'd recommend as a beginners poetry book or a quick pick-up
March 10, 2018
Fun poems that celebrate life. From a Catholic perspective.
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