Section: «Poems»
Verse (ancient Greek ὁ στίχος — row, structure), a term in versification used in several meanings:
artistic speech organized by division into rhythmically commensurate segments; poetry in the narrow sense; in particular, it implies the properties of versification of a particular tradition ("antique verse", "Akhmatova's verse", etc.);
a line of poetic text organized according to a certain rhythmic pattern ("My uncle of the most honest rules").
The Robe Of Christ
At the foot of the Cross on CalvaryThree soldiers sat and diced,And one of them was the DevilAnd he won the Robe of Christ.When the Devil comes in..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
The Proud Poet
One winter night a Devil came and sat upon my bed,His eyes were full of laughter for his heart was full of crime.'Why don't you take up fancy work..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
The New School
The halls that were loud with the merry tread of young and careless feetAre still with a stillness that is too drear to seem like holiday,And never a..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
The House With Nobody In It
Whenever I walk to Suffern along the Erie trackI go by a poor old farmhouse with its shingles broken and black.I suppose I've passed it a hundred..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
The Fourth Shepherd
(For Thomas Walsh)IOn nights like this the huddled sheepAre like white clouds upon the grass,And merry herdsmen guard their sleepAnd chat and watch..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
The Cathedral Of Rheims
He who walks through the meadows of ChampagneAt noon in Fall, when leaves like gold appear,Sees it draw nearLike some great mountain set upon the..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
The Big Top
The boom and blare of the big brass band is cheering to my heartAnd I like the smell of the trampled grass and elephants and hay.I take off my hat to..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
The Apartment House
Severe against the pleasant arc of skyThe great stone box is cruelly displayed.The street becomes more dreary from its shade,And vagrant breezes..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
The Annunciation
'Hail Mary, full of grace,' the Angel saith.Our Lady bows her head, and is ashamed;She has a Bridegroom Who may not be named,Her mortal flesh bears..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
Thanksgiving
The roar of the world is in my ears.Thank God for the roar of the world!Thank God for the mighty tide of fearsAgainst me always hurled!Thank God for..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
Stars
Bright stars, yellow stars, flashing through the air,Are you errant strands of Lady Mary's hair?As she slits the cloudy veil and bends down..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
St. Laurence
Within the broken VaticanThe murdered Pope is lying dead.The soldiers of ValerianTheir evil hands are wet and red.Unarmed, unmoved, St. Laurence..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
St. Alexis
Patron of BeggarsWe who beg for bread as we daily treadCountry lane and city street,Let us kneel and pray on the broad highwayTo the saint with the..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
Servant Girl And Grocer's Boy
Her lips' remark was: 'Oh, you kid!'Her soul spoke thus (I know it did):'O king of realms of endless joy,My own, my golden grocer's boy,I am a..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
Roses
(For Katherine Bregy)I went to gather roses and twine them in a ring,For I would make a posy, a posy for the King.I got an hundred roses, the..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
Roofs
The road is wide and the stars are outand the breath of the night is sweet,And this is the time when wanderlust should seize upon my feet.But I'm..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
Queen Elizabeth Speaks
My hands were stained with blood, my heart was proud and cold,My soul is black with shame . . . but I gave Shakespeare gold.So after aeons of flame..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
Prayer Of A Soldier In France
My shoulders ache beneath my pack(Lie easier, Cross, upon His back).I march with feet that burn and smart(Tread, Holy Feet, upon my heart).Men shout..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
Poets
Vain is the chiming of forgotten bellsThat the wind sways above a ruined shrine.Vainer his voice in whom no longer dwellsHunger that craves immortal..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
Pennies
A few long-hoarded pennies in his handBehold him stand;A kilted Hedonist, perplexed and sad.The joy that once he had,The first delight of ownership..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
Old Poets
(For Robert Cortez Holiday)If I should live in a forestAnd sleep underneath a tree,No grove of impudent saplingsWould make a home for me.I'd go where..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
Rouge Bouquet
In a wood they call Rouge BouquetThere is a new-made grave today,Built by never a spade nor pickYet covered with earth 10 meters thick.There lie many..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
Easter Week
'Romantic Ireland's dead and gone,It's with O'Leary in the grave.'Then, Yeats, what gave that Easter dawnA hue so radiantly brave?There was a rain of..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
Trees
I think that I shall never seeA poem lovely as a tree.A tree whose hungry mouth is prestAgainst the earth's sweet flowing breast;A tree that looks at..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
Easter
The air is like a butterflyWith frail blue wings.The happy earth looks at the skyAnd sings.
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer