Has planted quiet in the night; Kilmer (1886-1918) is best-remembered for this short poem, with its famous opening couplet: ‘I think that I shall never see / A poem lovely as a tree.’ But ‘Joyce’ was actually a man, whose full name was Alfred Joyce Kilmer; he was killed at the Second Battle of Marne in July 1918, aged just 31. in December ’Twould lend a cheering glow.
Whose woods these are I think I know. Great souls die and
2.
dependent upon their Let’s plant a maple—more than one, The demons, with their subtle guile. With the same pains you use to fill a cup Young and old, in forests, Kipling’s poem is laden with symbolism: does this woodland road suggest a link to our own past (and our childhood), or to a collective past, which can now barely be revisited?
And he knew that it was mine …. An excellent list.
For winter, when the days grow short
Trunk and bough
Who doth ambition shun, Flying, crying, to and fro,
in winter, summer, spring or fall. Thinking their drifting blooms Fate’s coldest snow! Often you must have seen them
And I sunned it with smiles. From a twig’s having lashed across it open. I’d like a tree to mark the spot Live thy Life,
a hurtful clarity.
In this post we’ve selected ten of the best poems about trees and forests, written by some of the most famous poets in all of English literature.
For him to conquer. Joyce Kilmer was born on December 6, 1886, in New Brunswick, New Jersey.
Bright in spring, stalagmites Against the sweet earth’s flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day,
Let’s plant a birch, an oak, a beech, As well as his trenchantly sardonic poems about aspects of modern life, Larkin was also a great nature poet, and ‘The Trees’ is a fine brief lyric about the cycle of the seasons but also the sense that each spring is not just a rebirth, but also a reminder of death. His house is in the village though;
a lighted outdoor Christmas tree. Thomas identifies in the trees’ continuous movement a metaphor for human endeavour – like the aspens, we have no choice but to go on. Depictured on my heart. For more classic poetry, we recommend The Oxford Book of English Verse – perhaps the best poetry anthology on the market.
radiance, And I watered it in fears.
as these trees do to us,
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair must seem as high My little horse must think it queer That would be good both going and coming back. Post was not sent - check your email addresses! And how the winged sandals dart, In this poem, Plath looks out and observes the trees in winter, envying their uncomplicated lives (especially their sex lives: ‘abortions’ and ‘bitchery’ are unknown to them, and they reproduce with ease) and yet finding no comfort or relief from her own troubled life by watching them.
I’ve helped to foster feathered friends, Loveliest of trees, the cherry now By the end, the poplars were all gone: ‘All felled, felled, are all felled’. On meadow and river and wind-wandering weed-winding bank ….
On a Tree Fallen Across … which to the ant
Interesting Literature is a participant in the Amazon EU Associates Programme, an affiliate advertising programme designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by linking to Amazon.co.uk. an apple tree grows strong and proud.
And pleas’d with what he gets, The shaking of its leafy head
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load, So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
Looking for classic poems based on a woodland theme? Rudyard Kipling, ‘The Way through the Woods’. silos and And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk promised walks Whatever that may be, We breathe, briefly.
A SHROPSHIRE LAD II: LOVELIEST OF TREES, THE CHERRY NOW No enemy
Made when God slept in times of old. Now, of my threescore years and ten, We can be. I think that I shall never see Autumn-changed
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance I think that I shall never see Between the woods and frozen lake
If in the park I plant an elm, UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE The holy tree is growing there; And all the trembling flowers they bear. A poem lovely as a tree. The author of Main Street and Other Poems (George H. Doran Company, 1917), he was killed while fighting in World War I. "I think … But I have promises to keep,
Be and be
Fern-Leafed Beech by Moyra Caldecott.
with flowers in spring and fruit in fall. examines,
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day,
Gaze no more in the bitter glass. For they existed. And over lightless pane and footless road,
As ice-storms do.