 | [Poems by Kilmer in] Memories of my son Sergeant Joyce Kilmer |  |
28
THE SONG OF TERRE D'AMOUR
Poem by Joyce Kilmer—Music by Annie Kilburn-Kilmer
Avalon's a pleasant place, full of leaves and singing;
Birds are there and all the air is sweet with flowers' breath,
Guenevere with love-lit face, knights with harness ringing,
These at last to joy have passed beyond the Gates of Death.
But there is a fairer land, greener fields there are,
Whiter lilies seek my hand beneath a kinder star.
Avalon may pass away 'neath the ebbing tide,
While through Terre d'Amour I stray, by my lady's side.
Birds are there and all the air is sweet with flowers' breath,
Guenevere with love-lit face, knights with harness ringing,
These at last to joy have passed beyond the Gates of Death.
But there is a fairer land, greener fields there are,
Whiter lilies seek my hand beneath a kinder star.
Avalon may pass away 'neath the ebbing tide,
While through Terre d'Amour I stray, by my lady's side.
On Olympus gods recline, Jove who rules the thunder,
Pallas wise, and she whose eyes like lakes of sapphire seem,
Hearty Bacchus crowned with vine, lords of light and wonder—
Ladies gay, these night and day live out a golden dream,
They are happy folk indeed, splendid mirth they share,
None the less I have no need to dwell among them there.
Jewelled hall and silver street weary seem and poor,
While we walk on joyous feet lanes of Terre d'Amour.
Pallas wise, and she whose eyes like lakes of sapphire seem,
Hearty Bacchus crowned with vine, lords of light and wonder—
Ladies gay, these night and day live out a golden dream,
They are happy folk indeed, splendid mirth they share,
None the less I have no need to dwell among them there.
Jewelled hall and silver street weary seem and poor,
While we walk on joyous feet lanes of Terre d'Amour.
Through the swiftly circling years, ignorant of sorrow,
Gay we tread while overhead the sky with love is bright.
What have we to do with fear, who on ev'ry morrow—
Hand in hand in love's own land shall wander in delight?
Terre d'Amour about us lies, ever young and green,
Violets and daisies rise to greet you as the queen.
Only yesternight a rose breathed this news to me,
“Ev'ry where my lady goes Terre d'Amour shall be.”
Gay we tread while overhead the sky with love is bright.
What have we to do with fear, who on ev'ry morrow—
Hand in hand in love's own land shall wander in delight?
Terre d'Amour about us lies, ever young and green,
Violets and daisies rise to greet you as the queen.
Only yesternight a rose breathed this news to me,
“Ev'ry where my lady goes Terre d'Amour shall be.”
| [Poems by Kilmer in] Memories of my son Sergeant Joyce Kilmer | |