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").
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
Dave Lilly
There's a brook on the side of Greylock that used to be full of trout,But there's nothing there now but minnows; they say it is all fished out.I..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
Citizen Of The World
No longer of Him be it said'He hath no place to lay His head.'In every land a constant lampFlames by His small and mighty camp.There is no strange..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
Alarm Clocks
When Dawn strides out to wake a dewy farmAcross green fields and yellow hills of hayThe little twittering birds laugh in his wayAnd poise triumphant..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
In Memory
ISerene and beautiful and very wise,Most erudite in curious Grecian lore,You lay and read your learned books, and boreA weight of unshed tears and..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
Gates And Doors
There was a gentle hostler(And blessed be his name!)He opened up the stableThe night Our Lady came.Our Lady and Saint Joseph,He gave them food and..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
Lionel Johnson
There was a murkier tinge in London's airAs if the honest fog blushed black for shame.Fools sang of sin, for other fools' acclaim,And Milton's wreath..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
Madness
(For Sara Teasdale)The lonely farm, the crowded street,The palace and the slum,Give welcome to my silent feetAs, bearing gifts, I come.Last night a..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
Love's Lantern
(For Aline)Because the road was steep and longAnd through a dark and lonely land,God set upon my lips a songAnd put a lantern in my hand.Through..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
Kings
The Kings of the earth are men of might,And cities are burned for their delight,And the skies rain death in the silent night,And the hills belch..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer
In Memory Of Rupert Brooke
In alien earth, across a troubled sea,His body lies that was so fair and young.His mouth is stopped, with half his songs unsung;His arm is still..
© Alfred Joyce Kilmer