Oh, he can be the forest, And he can be the sun, Or a butte… - Joyce Kilmer

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Oh, he can be the forest, And he can be the sun, Or a buttercup, or an hour of rest When the weary day is done. I saw him through a thousand veils, And has not this sufficed? Now, must I look on the Devil robed In the radiant Robe of Christ?

Joyce Kilmer

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About Joyce Kilmer

Alfred Joyce Kilmer (6 December 1886 – 30 July 1918) was an American journalist and poet.

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Alternative Names: Alfred Joyce Kilmer

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Percy Bysshe Shelley Alfred Tennyson William Butler Yeats Lord Byron Algernon Charles Swinburne

Additional quotes by Joyce Kilmer

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.

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.

Your eyes, that looked on glory, could discover The angry scar to which the world was blind: And it was grief that made Mankind your lover, And it was grief that made you love Mankind.

Oh, he can be the forest, And he can be the sun, Or a buttercup, or an hour of rest When the weary day is done. I saw him through a thousand veils, A… - Joyce Kilmer

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