Joyce Kilmer Poems
|46.||Citizen Of The World||12/31/2002|
|47.||As Winds That Blow Against A Star||12/31/2002|
|49.||Prayer Of A Soldier In France||12/31/2002|
|50.||A Blue Valentine||12/31/2002|
|51.||Ballade Of My Lady's Beauty||1/4/2003|
|53.||The House With Nobody In It||12/31/2002|
The House With Nobody In It
Whenever I walk to Suffern along the Erie track
I go by a poor old farmhouse with its shingles broken and black.
I suppose I've passed it a hundred times, but I always stop for a minute
And look at the house, the tragic house, the house with nobody in it.
I never have seen a haunted house, but I hear there are such things;
That they hold the talk of spirits, their mirth and sorrowings.
I know this house isn't haunted, and I wish it were, I do;
For it wouldn't be so lonely if it had a ghost or two.
This house on the road to Suffern needs a dozen panes of ...
When Dawn strides out to wake a dewy farm
Across green fields and yellow hills of hay
The little twittering birds laugh in his way
And poise triumphant on his shining arm.
He bears a sword of flame but not to harm
The wakened life that feels his quickening sway
And barnyard voices shrilling "It is day!"
Take by his grace a new and alien charm.