Джойс Килмер цитаты

Джойс Килмер фото
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Джойс Килмер

Дата рождения: 6. Декабрь 1886
Дата смерти: 30. Июль 1918

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Джойс Килмер — американский писатель и поэт.

Цитаты Джойс Килмер

„I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.“

— Joyce Kilmer, Trees & Other Poems
Context: I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the earth's sweet flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in Summer wear A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain. Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree. "Trees" - This poem was first published in Poetry: A Magazine of Verse Vol. 2 (August 1913). The first two lines were first written down on the 2nd of February 1913.

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„An iron hand has stilled the throats
That throbbed with loud and rhythmic glee“

— Joyce Kilmer
Context: An iron hand has stilled the throats That throbbed with loud and rhythmic glee And dammed the flood of silver notes That drenched the world in melody. "To a Blackbird and His Mate Who Died in the Spring"

„Her soul's light shines through,
But her soul cannot be seen.“

— Joyce Kilmer
Context: Her soul's light shines through, But her soul cannot be seen. It is something elusive, whimsical, tender, wanton, infantile, wise And noble.

„And now deep in his weary heart
Are sacred flames that whitely burn.
He has of Heaven's grace a part
Who loves, who is beloved in turn.“

— Joyce Kilmer
Context: For, once he thrilled with high romance And tuned to love his eager voice. Like any cavalier of France He wooed the maiden of his choice. And now deep in his weary heart Are sacred flames that whitely burn. He has of Heaven's grace a part Who loves, who is beloved in turn.

„Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.“

— Joyce Kilmer
Context: I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the earth's sweet flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in Summer wear A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain. Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree. "Trees" - This poem was first published in Poetry: A Magazine of Verse Vol. 2 (August 1913). The first two lines were first written down on the 2nd of February 1913.

„In shining rank on rank arrayed
They march, the legions of the Lord;
He is their Captain unafraid,
The Prince of Peace . . . Who brought a sword.“

— Joyce Kilmer
Context: The bugle echoes shrill and sweet, But not of war it sings to-day. The road is rhythmic with the feet ⁠Of men-at-arms who come to pray. The roses blossom white and red ⁠On tombs where weary soldiers lie; Flags wave above the honored dead ⁠And martial music cleaves the sky. Above their wreath-strewn graves we kneel, ⁠They kept the faith and fought the fight. Through flying lead and crimson steel ⁠They plunged for Freedom and the Right. May we, their grateful children, learn ⁠Their strength, who lie beneath this sod, Who went through fire and death to earn ⁠At last the accolade of God.In shining rank on rank arrayed They march, the legions of the Lord; He is their Captain unafraid, The Prince of Peace... Who brought a sword.</p "Memorial Day"; this poem was later published in The Army and Navy Hymnal (1920)

„The bugle echoes shrill and sweet,
But not of war it sings to-day.
The road is rhythmic with the feet
⁠Of men-at-arms who come to pray.“

— Joyce Kilmer
Context: The bugle echoes shrill and sweet, But not of war it sings to-day. The road is rhythmic with the feet ⁠Of men-at-arms who come to pray. The roses blossom white and red ⁠On tombs where weary soldiers lie; Flags wave above the honored dead ⁠And martial music cleaves the sky. Above their wreath-strewn graves we kneel, ⁠They kept the faith and fought the fight. Through flying lead and crimson steel ⁠They plunged for Freedom and the Right. May we, their grateful children, learn ⁠Their strength, who lie beneath this sod, Who went through fire and death to earn ⁠At last the accolade of God.In shining rank on rank arrayed They march, the legions of the Lord; He is their Captain unafraid, The Prince of Peace... Who brought a sword.</p "Memorial Day"; this poem was later published in The Army and Navy Hymnal (1920)

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„Have pity on our foolishness
And give us eyes, that we may see
Beneath the shopman's clumsy dress
The splendor of humanity!“

— Joyce Kilmer
Context: O Carpenter of Nazareth, Whose mother was a village maid, Shall we, Thy children, blow our breath In scorn on any humble trade? Have pity on our foolishness And give us eyes, that we may see Beneath the shopman's clumsy dress The splendor of humanity!

„Here is a shop of wonderment.
From every land has come a prize“

— Joyce Kilmer
Context: Here is a shop of wonderment. From every land has come a prize; Rich spices from the Orient, And fruit that knew Italian skies, And figs that ripened by the sea In Smyrna, nuts from hot Brazil, Strange pungent meats from Germany, And currants from a Grecian hill.

„And when you think of love and fame
And all that might have come to pass,
Then don't you feel a little shame?
And don't you think you were an ass?“

— Joyce Kilmer
Context: Yes, God forgives and men forget, And you're forgiven and forgotten. You might be gaily sinning yet And quick and fresh instead of rotten. And when you think of love and fame And all that might have come to pass, Then don't you feel a little shame? And don't you think you were an ass? "To A Young Poet Who Killed Himself"

„There lie many fighting men.
Dead in their youthful prime
Never to laugh nor love again
Nor taste the Summertime.“

— Joyce Kilmer
Context: In a wood they call the Rouge Bouquet, There is a new-made grave today, Built by never a spade nor pick, Yet covered with earth ten meteres thick. There lie many fighting men. Dead in their youthful prime Never to laugh nor love again Nor taste the Summertime. "Rouge Bouquet" (1918)

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„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.“

— Joyce Kilmer
Context: 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. But in the city, like a wounded thing That limps to cover from the angry chase, He steals down streets where sickly arc-lights sing, And wanly mock his young and shameful face; And tiny gongs with cruel fervor ring In many a high and dreary sleeping place. "Alarm Clocks"

„May we, their grateful children, learn
⁠Their strength, who lie beneath this sod,
Who went through fire and death to earn
⁠At last the accolade of God.“

— Joyce Kilmer
Context: The bugle echoes shrill and sweet, But not of war it sings to-day. The road is rhythmic with the feet ⁠Of men-at-arms who come to pray. The roses blossom white and red ⁠On tombs where weary soldiers lie; Flags wave above the honored dead ⁠And martial music cleaves the sky. Above their wreath-strewn graves we kneel, ⁠They kept the faith and fought the fight. Through flying lead and crimson steel ⁠They plunged for Freedom and the Right. May we, their grateful children, learn ⁠Their strength, who lie beneath this sod, Who went through fire and death to earn ⁠At last the accolade of God.In shining rank on rank arrayed They march, the legions of the Lord; He is their Captain unafraid, The Prince of Peace... Who brought a sword.</p "Memorial Day"; this poem was later published in The Army and Navy Hymnal (1920)

„God be thanked for the Milky Way that runs across the sky,
That's the path that my feet would tread whenever I have to die.“

— Joyce Kilmer
Context: God be thanked for the Milky Way that runs across the sky, That's the path that my feet would tread whenever I have to die. Some folks call it a Silver Sword, and some a Pearly Crown, But the only thing I think it is, is Main Street, Heaventown. "Main Street"

„It seems appropriate to me to state
According to a venerable and agreeable custom,
That I love a beautiful lady.“

— Joyce Kilmer
Context: It seems appropriate to me to state According to a venerable and agreeable custom, That I love a beautiful lady. Her eyes, Monsignore, Are so blue that they put lovely little blue reflections On everything that she looks at, Such as a wall Or the moon Or my heart.

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