Poems and Trees
By Orson F. Whitney
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
– Kilmer.
Are poets, then, but clownish tools,
And poesy the sport of fools?
Surely you did not mean it, friend.
Forgive me, if your thought I mend.
The God who made that lovely tree
Made poets, too, and poetry.
Who fashioned the majestic oak,
Through Shakespeare and through Wordsworth spoke.
Who planted the uptowering pine,
Gave form and force to Milton’s line.
Folly’s creations! Are they so?
A million voices answer. No.
And none among them will decree
Kilmer was less than Kilmer’s tree.
(1927)
I’m inclined to believe God spoke through Shakespeare and Woodsworth.
Through Kilmer? I’m not so sure.
Poesy is my new favorite word. This is nice.
I can’t think of Joyce Kilmer without thinking of the service area on the New Jersey Turnpike that is named for him. I don’t know what Kilmer did to deserve that–I mean, getting named Joyce left him deserving something good, so he must have really fouled up to get the service area too.