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 | [Poems by Kilmer in] Memories of my son Sergeant Joyce Kilmer |  |
17
TO A. K. K.
August the fourth
Nineteen Hundred and Eleven.
Now the English larks are singing,
And the English meadows flinging
Scarlet flags of blazing poppies to the fragrant summer air,
And from every tower and steeple
All the wondering English people
Hear a chime of fairy music, though no bell-ringers are there.
And the English meadows flinging
Scarlet flags of blazing poppies to the fragrant summer air,
And from every tower and steeple
All the wondering English people
Hear a chime of fairy music, though no bell-ringers are there.
What has caused this jubilation?
Days ago the coronation
Went with jewelled pomp and splendour to the country of the past.
Is the land some Saint's day hailing?
Or has some tall ship gone sailing
Through the hostile fleet to triumph, with the Union at her mast?
Days ago the coronation
Went with jewelled pomp and splendour to the country of the past.
Is the land some Saint's day hailing?
Or has some tall ship gone sailing
Through the hostile fleet to triumph, with the Union at her mast?
Nay, it is no war-like glory,
Nor pale saint, of ancient story,
That has made the island blossom into beauty rare and new.
We in this sea-severed nation,
Share with England our elation,
As we keep this feast, your birthday, and are glad with love for you!
Nor pale saint, of ancient story,
That has made the island blossom into beauty rare and new.
We in this sea-severed nation,
Share with England our elation,
As we keep this feast, your birthday, and are glad with love for you!
18
“WHITE HORSE” OF KILBURN
To A. K. K. on her Birthday, 1912
Last night the beat of hoofs was heard upon the shaded street,
It broke the silent brooding of the peaceful country-side;
I looked and saw a horse that stamped its terrible white feet,
A giant horse, as white as flame, long maned and starry eyed.
It broke the silent brooding of the peaceful country-side;
I looked and saw a horse that stamped its terrible white feet,
A giant horse, as white as flame, long maned and starry eyed.
“Who is this monstrous visitant?” said I, “Bucephalus?
Or Rosinante, looking for another crazy knight?
Or (not to be conceited) may it not be Pegasus?
This mighty horse, this glowing horse, so beautiful and white.”
Or Rosinante, looking for another crazy knight?
Or (not to be conceited) may it not be Pegasus?
This mighty horse, this glowing horse, so beautiful and white.”
He proudly tossed his noble head, and neighed “Across the foam
My stable lies, with clouds for roof, and mountainous green walls;
I come to take your message unto Her, who near my home
Will hold her birthday feast before another evening falls.”
My stable lies, with clouds for roof, and mountainous green walls;
I come to take your message unto Her, who near my home
Will hold her birthday feast before another evening falls.”
“Go back, O Horse,” I said, “and seek your pleasant dwelling-place,
And here's a gift for you to take, I trust it to your care;
Support this heavy load of love until you see her face,
Then humbly kneel before her feet and lay my homage there.”
And here's a gift for you to take, I trust it to your care;
Support this heavy load of love until you see her face,
Then humbly kneel before her feet and lay my homage there.”
19
FOR A BIRTHDAY
To A. K. K., 1913
England, England, put your veil of mist away!Dress in green with poppies in your hair.
England, England, let your birds sing holiday.
Let your lanes be jubilant and fair.
She is made of singing, therefore hail her with a song,
Strew her path with loveliness and crown her with delight
Golden hours of joy and beauty—these to her belong,
Everything that lives today must own her gentle might.
England, England, now the jocund feast is here
Now is time for frolicing and mirth.
England, England, now another turning year,
Brings the day that celebrates her birth!
To My Mother on Her Birthday, 1914
With a Book of Poems
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 those boyish scrawls the years have rolled,
They might not bear the world's unfriendly gaze,
But still your smile shines down familiar ways,
Touches my words and turns their dross to gold.
(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 those boyish scrawls the years have rolled,
They might not bear the world's unfriendly gaze,
But still your smile shines down familiar ways,
Touches my words and turns their dross to gold.
Dearer to-day than in that happy time,
Comes your high 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, this little book of fragile rhyme;
Your heart will change it to authentic song.
Comes your high 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, this little book of fragile rhyme;
Your heart will change it to authentic song.
20
To An Adventurous Infant
On Her Birthday, August 1915
“England,” she said, “is surely England yet;
Therefore it is the place where I should be.
In spite of war, I know that tea is tea,
A vinaigrette is still a vinaigrette.”
Therefore it is the place where I should be.
In spite of war, I know that tea is tea,
A vinaigrette is still a vinaigrette.”
“Why should I worry over Wilhelm's threat?”
And thereupon she said goodbye to me,
And gaily sailed across the dangerous sea,
To where, among the Zeppelins, tea was set.
And thereupon she said goodbye to me,
And gaily sailed across the dangerous sea,
To where, among the Zeppelins, tea was set.
What if the sea foam mountainously high
With waves that had in Hell their fiery birth?
What if black peril hover in the sky,
And bursting shell wound deep the trembling earth?
All evil things must harmlessly pass by
He who doth bear the talisman of Mirth.
With waves that had in Hell their fiery birth?
What if black peril hover in the sky,
And bursting shell wound deep the trembling earth?
All evil things must harmlessly pass by
He who doth bear the talisman of Mirth.
To My Mother, October, 1915
There fell a flood of devastating flame
On half the world, and all its joy was dead.
The sky was black, the troubled sea was red,
And from all mouths a lamentation came.
But you, in calm and hurricane the same,
Went with gay lips, brave heart and unbowed head.
What was the charm, from which all danger fled?
What did you say, what cabalistic name?
On half the world, and all its joy was dead.
The sky was black, the troubled sea was red,
And from all mouths a lamentation came.
But you, in calm and hurricane the same,
Went with gay lips, brave heart and unbowed head.
What was the charm, from which all danger fled?
What did you say, what cabalistic name?
It was my love that sent its quickening breath
On all the waves that bore your ship along.
My love held out, against the flying death,
That clove the sea, a shield than steel more strong,
Bringing you back, where no war harrieth,
Stars in your eyes, and in your heart a song.
On all the waves that bore your ship along.
My love held out, against the flying death,
That clove the sea, a shield than steel more strong,
Bringing you back, where no war harrieth,
Stars in your eyes, and in your heart a song.
21
To A. K. K.
August Fourth, Nineteen Sixteen
The Berkshire Hills are gay
With a gladder tint to-day,
And Mount Graylock rears his mighty head in pride.
For the lady that they knew
Long ago, to them is true,
And has come within their shadow to reside.
With a gladder tint to-day,
And Mount Graylock rears his mighty head in pride.
For the lady that they knew
Long ago, to them is true,
And has come within their shadow to reside.
And across the troubled sea,
Yorkshire hill and Cambridge lea,
Send their love to you by every wind that blows.
And a greater love than these
Hurries northward on the breeze
From the little hills they call the Ramapos.
Yorkshire hill and Cambridge lea,
Send their love to you by every wind that blows.
And a greater love than these
Hurries northward on the breeze
From the little hills they call the Ramapos.
22
VALENTINE
(date unknown)
Red is the roseyou love the best.
Red are the rubies
in which you're drest.
Red is the richest
mellowest wine
And red is my heart—
your Valentine.
TO YOU, 1908
Devotion, never endingAnd courage, ever mending
These two, together blending
Belong always to you.
I give you my devotion
In calm or in commotion,
As deep as is the ocean
And as the stars are, true.
23
1912
She has dainty silken gowns,
Purples, scarlets, blues and browns
She has flashing jeweled circlets to adorn her pretty hair.
She has ribbons, scarves and rings,
Vinaigrette and other things,
And to find a new gift for her drives a person to despair.
Purples, scarlets, blues and browns
She has flashing jeweled circlets to adorn her pretty hair.
She has ribbons, scarves and rings,
Vinaigrette and other things,
And to find a new gift for her drives a person to despair.
On Saint Valentine his day
I have made my eager way,
Through the rich and splendid counters of Dan Cupid's famous mart,
There was no gift I could buy
So I guess I'll have to try
To content her with a simple thing—it's nothing but my heart.
I have made my eager way,
Through the rich and splendid counters of Dan Cupid's famous mart,
There was no gift I could buy
So I guess I'll have to try
To content her with a simple thing—it's nothing but my heart.
VALENTINE—1913
I will send my heart to England, and will make it learn to actLike a vacant minded vicar, or a curate full of tea.
I will make my heart talk Cambridgese, or Yorkshirish, in fact,
I will make it be as British as a human heart can be.
I will dress my heart in roses, roses red and ever gay,
I will steep my heart in scarletest of wine.
I will teach my heart to bow, and smile, and sing, and dance and play—
Just to make you take it for a Valentine!
24
VALENTINE TO MY MOTHER, 1914
The English meadows call her, and the streets of London Town,And the pleasant little villages under the Yorkshire hills.
She can see the roads, like ribbons white, that stretch across the down,
And the great slow turning sails of sleepy mills.
She longs for stately mansions, in whose eaves the pigeons coo,
And she longs for yellow corn-fields, where the scarlet poppies shine,
She loves the folk of England, and, of course, they love her too
But she lingers in America to be my Valentine.
(Set to music by A. K. K. and published in London)
VALENTINE, 1915
TO MY MOTHER SINGING
Out of the golden valleys of old years,You have recalled so many a lovely thing.
Forgotten splendours glimmer when you sing,
With their long vanished light of mirth and tears.
Gay lovers flout their love's delicious fears.
The proud swords clash for Charles, the rightful King,
A woman weeps, and turns her “Silver Ring.”
The “Men of Harlech” charge with level spears.
Yet I, crowned with my crown of vanity,
Have been more happy when you sang and played
The songs wherein your art had succoured me.
As starry note on starry note was laid,
Then my chained rhymes, by your designs set free,
Flew heavenward on the radiant wings you made.
25
VALENTINE FOR MY MOTHER, 1917
If some day as you idly turn the pages,Whereon my verses are,
You find a flower where angry winter rages,
On the black earth a star;
If in dead words you come on something living,
Some fair and vibrant line—
It is the message that my heart is giving,
It is your Valentine.
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.”
29
THE YELLOW GOWN
Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief;
Love it is a happiness, love it is a grief,
Jeffrey is a grocer, with a pony and a cart,
Michael is a beggar man, and took away my heart!
Love it is a happiness, love it is a grief,
Jeffrey is a grocer, with a pony and a cart,
Michael is a beggar man, and took away my heart!
I've a yellow satin frock made in London town,
Silken buttons fasten it, I count them up and down,
Doctor, Lawyer, Merchant, Chief—so the rhyming ran,
Three more buttons to the end, and that is Beggar man!
Silken buttons fasten it, I count them up and down,
Doctor, Lawyer, Merchant, Chief—so the rhyming ran,
Three more buttons to the end, and that is Beggar man!
Shall I break my mother's heart? Shall I break my own?
Every day I sit and think, and thus I make my moan,
Jeffrey's cart may lose a wheel, his pony break a leg,
But with Michael by my side, I'd gladly, gladly beg!
Every day I sit and think, and thus I make my moan,
Jeffrey's cart may lose a wheel, his pony break a leg,
But with Michael by my side, I'd gladly, gladly beg!
Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief,
Love it is a happiness, it never is a grief.
Jeffrey with his pony and his cart may drive away,
But with Michael's dear blue eyes, I'm happy all the day!
Love it is a happiness, it never is a grief.
Jeffrey with his pony and his cart may drive away,
But with Michael's dear blue eyes, I'm happy all the day!
30
DOWN AMONG THE DEAD MEN
(Delta Upsilon Song)
Words by Alfred Joyce Kilmer, Columbia, '08
(Old English Air)
Come, brothers all, your glasses fill,
And drink this health with right good-will;
For here's a toast both brave and true,
Our own beloved Delta U!
And drink this health with right good-will;
For here's a toast both brave and true,
Our own beloved Delta U!
Chorus
And he that will this health deny,
Down among the dead men,
Down among the dead men,
Down, down, down, down,
Down among the dead men,
Let him lie.
Down among the dead men,
Down among the dead men,
Down, down, down, down,
Down among the dead men,
Let him lie.
Now, here's to all throughout the land,
Who in our ranks fraternal stand;
Whose aims are high, whose hearts beat true,
Beneath the royal Gold and Blue!
Who in our ranks fraternal stand;
Whose aims are high, whose hearts beat true,
Beneath the royal Gold and Blue!
And here's a health to ladies fair,
Who faithfully our colours wear;
May every blessing wait upon
The girls of Delta Upsilon!
Who faithfully our colours wear;
May every blessing wait upon
The girls of Delta Upsilon!
Now, brothers, here is one toast more,
The Delta U's of “Thirty-four,”
Who firm in truth and equity
Established our Fraternity.
The Delta U's of “Thirty-four,”
Who firm in truth and equity
Established our Fraternity.
31
RUTGERS PREP SCHOOL
(Air—Old Folks at Home)
Down where the Raritan is flowing,
Out to the sea,
There's where my heart's devotion's owing,
There is the school for me.
Famed are her walls in song and story,
Honoured her name,
Her sons unite to sound her glory,
And to uphold her fame.
Out to the sea,
There's where my heart's devotion's owing,
There is the school for me.
Famed are her walls in song and story,
Honoured her name,
Her sons unite to sound her glory,
And to uphold her fame.
Chorus
Rutgers Prep School, Hall of Learning,
Other schools above,
My heart for thee is ever yearning,
True to the school I love.
Other schools above,
My heart for thee is ever yearning,
True to the school I love.
Scarlet and White is waving o'er me,
Floating on high,
Long has that banner gone before me,
Gleaming against the sky.
Proudly its silken folds I cherish
Sacredly pure,
Ne'er shall it's scarlet splendour perish,
Always its white endure.—Chorus.
Floating on high,
Long has that banner gone before me,
Gleaming against the sky.
Proudly its silken folds I cherish
Sacredly pure,
Ne'er shall it's scarlet splendour perish,
Always its white endure.—Chorus.
Joyce Kilmer, '04
32
FOOTBALL SONG
(Air—Battle Hymn of the Republic)
By Joyce Kilmer
Come all ye Rutgers Prep School men and sing our football song,
And swell the mighty chorus that will help the team along,
Our hearts are true to Rutgers Prep, our voices they are strong,
For we must win the game.
And swell the mighty chorus that will help the team along,
Our hearts are true to Rutgers Prep, our voices they are strong,
For we must win the game.
Chorus
Whoop'er up for Rutgers Prep School,
Whoop'er up for Rutgers Prep School,
Whoop'er up for Rutgers Prep School,
For we must win the game.
Whoop'er up for Rutgers Prep School,
Whoop'er up for Rutgers Prep School,
For we must win the game.
The Prep School fellows take the ball and rush it down the field,
The line before them breaks and runs, they know that they must yield,
And soon we'll score a touchdown and to all 'twill be revealed
That we must win the game.
The line before them breaks and runs, they know that they must yield,
And soon we'll score a touchdown and to all 'twill be revealed
That we must win the game.
Now let us join together in the good old Prep School cheer,
And give it with a hearty will and shout it loud and clear.
Let's make those fellows in the field aware that we are here,
For we must win the game.
And give it with a hearty will and shout it loud and clear.
Let's make those fellows in the field aware that we are here,
For we must win the game.
| [Poems by Kilmer in] Memories of my son Sergeant Joyce Kilmer | |