Joyce Kilmer

(1886-1918 / New Jersey)

Joyce Kilmer Poems

41. Delicatessen 12/31/2002
42. Alarm Clocks 12/31/2002
43. Madness 12/31/2002
44. Vision 12/31/2002
45. Love's Lantern 12/31/2002
46. Citizen Of The World 12/31/2002
47. As Winds That Blow Against A Star 12/31/2002
48. Old Poets 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
52. Stars 12/31/2002
53. The House With Nobody In It 12/31/2002
54. Trees 12/31/2002

Comments about Joyce Kilmer

  • Miriam A. Kilmer (11/24/2007 10:26:00 AM)

    If you found this page interesting:

    http: //www.poemhunter.com/joyce-kilmer/

    Please visit my Joyce Kilmer website: http: //www.risingdove.com/kilmer/Trees.image.asp
    'Trees' limited edition print
    http: //www.risingdove.com/kilmer/jkbookindex.asp
    The Joyce Kilmer and Aline Kilmer Association Copies Book Index
    http: //www.risingdove.com/kilmer/FAQ.asp
    Joyce Kilmer: FAQs and Fancies
    and much more!
    I am Joyce Kilmer's granddaughter.

    44 person liked.
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  • Nerissa Hedlind (12/12/2006 11:35:00 AM)

    reminds me of childhood...and God is definitely wonderful making a tree and humans can make a so good poem like this...

    30 person liked.
    12 person did not like.
Best Poem of Joyce Kilmer

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 ...

Read the full of The House With Nobody In It

Alarm Clocks

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.

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