Trees, And a Poem in Tribute to Joyce Kilmer

Trees (1913)

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 who looks at God all day,

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree who 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.

                        ---Joyce Kilmer (1886 – 1918)

                                    Killed on 30 July 1918

                                    The Second Battle of the Marne

                                    World War I

A Poet of My Heart

I thought of you today Joyce Kilmer,

The long dead poet of New Jersey,

The poet of Trees, the marker

Of nature’s grand design

In rhymes as simple as the sniper’s bullet

That felled you in the mud of war

And left you bleeding

Lying still in death, embraced  

By mother earth’s sweet bosom,

At the crest of a small hill in France.

I saw a tree today, as dead as you,

It’s arms stretched heavenly,

As if to reach your lifeless, muddy

Fingers in a pleading moment

Of fearful supplication,

It’s gray and brittle limbs 

Tortured by time and

Free at last to die

Among the rising life of 

Opulent greenery, the 

Carefree joy of sunshine,

The blissful cooling rain.

The lonely arms outstretched

Caught my eye and trapped

My attention. It was then, 

I thought of you.

            

                        --- William Stroud

Later, I shall write about World War I and the Second Battle of the Marne.

Should you wish to know more about Joyce Kilmer, this is a good place to start:  

 Joyce Kilmer