(For Sara Teasdale)
The lonely farm, the crowded street,
The palace and the slum,
Give welcome to my silent feet
As, bearing gifts, I come.
Last night a beggar crouched alone,
A ragged helpless thing;
I set him on a moonbeam throne --
Today he is a king.
Last night a king in orb and crown
Held court with splendid cheer;
Today he tears his purple gown
And moans and shrieks in fear.
Not iron bars, nor flashing spears,
Not land, nor sky, nor sea,
Nor love's artillery of tears
Can keep mine own from me.
Serene, unchanging, ever fair,
I smile with secret mirth
And in a net of mine own hair
I swing the captive earth.
Joyce Kilmer's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Madness by Joyce Kilmer )
- Raymond J Wright
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(3 February 1874 – 27 July 1946)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(21 May 1688 – 30 May 1744)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
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