Poetry of Joyce Kilmer
Trees and Other Poems


Vain is the chiming of forgotten bells
 That the wind sways above a ruined shrine.
Vainer his voice in whom no longer dwells
 Hunger that craves immortal Bread and Wine.

Light songs we breathe that perish with our breath
 Out of our lips that have not kissed the rod.
They shall not live who have not tasted death.
 They only sing who are struck dumb by God.