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The United States At War--in France
Adapted with a few omissions and changes in language from the...

Why The United States Entered The War
The United States was slow to enter the war, because her peop...

At The Front
What one soldier writes, millions have experienced. At f...

A Carol From Flanders
1914 In Flanders on the Christmas morn The trench...

Nations Born And Reborn
In America, and in many other countries, people have listened...

A Boy Of Perugia
In the year 1500, Raphael was a boy of eighteen in Perugia wo...

The Miner And The Tiger
On an October day in 1866, David Lloyd George, then a little ...

Redeemed Italy
Italy, since 1860 at least, has cherished the dream that some...

Four Soldiers
THE BOCHE The boche was chiefly what his masters made him....

The Unspeakable Turk
Although the great issues of the war were decided, and victor...

Joyce Kilmer
The first poet and author in the American army to give up his...

Trees
I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. ...

The Capture Of Dun
After the Americans had cleared the Saint Mihiel salient, Mar...

U S Destroyer _osmond C Ingram_
If you were standing on the deck of a patrol boat watching fo...

The Call To Arms In Our Street
There's a woman sobs her heart out, With her head agains...

Song Of The Aviator
(This poem was written for an entertainment given by the Y.M....

Pershing At The Tomb Of Lafayette
They knew they were fighting our war. As the months gr...

America Comes In
We are coming from the ranch, from the city and the mine, ...

United States Day
United States Day was celebrated in Paris on April 20, 1918. ...

The Lost Battalion
On December 24, 1918, Lieutenant Colonel Charles W. Whittlese...



Trees






I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

JOYCE KILMER.





Next: Blocking The Channel

Previous: Joyce Kilmer



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