Trees, and Other Poems

In Short

This volume is a celebration of the everyday, finding holiness in the mundane details of life—a commuter train, a neighborhood grocer, or the simple architecture of a tree. Through structured, rhythmic verse, the poet explores the tension between the noisy, "manufactured" world of the city and the enduring peace of faith and home. Its enduring resonance comes from its unapologetic warmth and its ability to elevate the lives of ordinary people into something worthy of song, ensuring its place as a classic of early modern American sentiment.

The Story

The collection begins by establishing a tone of humble gratitude, with the poet dedicating his work to his mother, acknowledging her as the primary architect of his "authentic song." From this intimate opening, the focus shifts outward, first to the landscape of the suburban commute. In "The Twelve-Forty-Five," the poet rides a midnight train, initially feeling "unnatural and mean" for disturbing the silence of the sleeping countryside. Yet, as the journey progresses, he realizes the train's noble purpose: it is a vessel carrying fathers and sons home to bed. This revelation sets the stage for the rest of the book—a search for the sacred within the secular.

As the poems unfold, the reader travels through the vibrant, often messy reality of city life. The poet encounters the "delicatessen" shopkeeper, an ordinary man who, though ignored by Fame, possesses the "splendor of humanity" through his love for his wife and child. This theme of finding hidden greatness in the overlooked continues in portraits of the servant girl dreaming of her grocer’s boy, and in the tragic, sympathetic study of an empty house. The house, once a shelter for life and laughter, stands as a symbol of the hollow ache left behind when human connection fades.

Interspersed with these human stories are moments of deep, meditative spiritualism. The poet looks at the stars and imagines them as the sparks of celestial battles, or as the eyes of baby angels. He finds God’s presence not just in cathedrals, but in the "hungry mouth" of a tree pressing against the earth. However, this is not a collection of unbroken serenity. The poet confronts the darker edges of the human experience, including the folly of youth, the despair of a young poet who takes his own life, and the "iron hand" of death that claims both men and blackbirds.

The collection reaches its emotional climax in the narrative of "The Fourth Shepherd," a man who, haunted by his own sins, finds redemption by offering his humble stable as shelter to a woman "great with child." Here, the poet’s journey concludes in a moment of pure, light-filled epiphany, realizing that even the most "deadly stain" can be consumed by the "blinding Light" of the divine. The book closes with reflections on the enduring power of romance and memory, ultimately suggesting that while time spins the years around, the love found in home, faith, and the simple act of living remains the only thing that will not pass away.

How It Unfolds

The dedication to memory The poet acknowledges his mother’s early influence, framing his own work as a "fragile rhyme" that she transforms into "authentic song." This establishes a theme of artistic humility and the importance of those who nurture the poet’s voice.

The rhythm of the commute The poet observes the nightly journey of a midnight train, contrasting the cold "manufactured light" of the carriage with the "gracious gift of night" outside. He finds a sense of peace in the knowledge that his noisy machine serves the essential, holy purpose of returning people to their families.

The discovery of hidden grace The poems transition into the city streets, seeking out the "delicatessen" shopkeeper and the servant girl. He argues that even the most commonplace lives are filled with sacred flames and high romance, provided one has the eyes to see them.

The meditation on faith and nature The poet looks upward, interpreting the natural world and the stars as physical manifestations of heaven’s activity. He finds that trees, stars, and even beggars are conduits for the divine, linking the humble earth to the celestial.

The resolution of the spirit In the final movements, the poet addresses the weight of sin and the permanence of love. Through the story of the fourth shepherd and the imagery of the empty house, he reconciles his own weariness with the promise of grace, ending on a note of quiet, spiritual triumph.

The People

The book is populated by characters who occupy the margins of society: the "kilted Hedonist" child, the aging, pipe-smoking poet, and the "shiftless" fisherman Dave Lilly. These figures are not grand heroes; they are defined by their capacity for simple joy or their quiet, unheralded struggles.

The shopman in "Delicatessen" is perhaps the most significant figure, representing the "commonplace" life that the poet insists is actually a battlefield for love and survival. He wants nothing more than to care for his family, yet he faces the constant, "grotesque" pressures of the modern world. Similarly, the "Fourth Shepherd" acts as the emotional anchor for the book’s spiritual arc. He enters the story as a man defined by shame and flight, but he is transformed into a witness of the miraculous simply by performing an act of human kindness. These characters are not different by the end of their respective poems because they have achieved fame, but because they have been "seen." The poet acts as a lens, focusing our attention on them until their inner lives—their "splendor"—become undeniable.

In Its Own Voice

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

This famous couplet serves as the conclusion to the poet's meditation on the inherent, divine perfection of nature compared to the limitations of human artistry.

"A house that has echoed a baby's laugh and held up his stumbling feet, / Is the saddest sight, when it's left alone, that ever your eyes could meet."

In describing an abandoned farmhouse, the poet captures the profound sense of loss that occurs when a space once filled with love is left to crumble in silence.

What It's Really About

The central argument of this collection is that the miraculous is not found in the distant or the extraordinary, but in the "clumsy dress" of the everyday. The poet asks: Why do we reserve our awe for the grand, when the "trafficker in humble sweets" or the "strident" commuter train are equally filled with the divine? It is a plea for clarity of vision—a rejection of cynicism in favor of a childlike, "foolish" wonder. The book interrogates the nature of success, concluding that "being" is far more important than "making." By consistently pointing toward the "Carpenter of Nazareth" as the ultimate example of a humble life, the poet argues that love is the only true measure of reality.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate verse that favors clarity, rhythm, and sincerity over intellectual abstraction will find a great deal to admire here. Kilmer writes with a warmth that feels earned, not forced, and his ability to pull the reader into the quiet corners of his life—the "pleasant arc of sky" above an apartment building or the "blackened water" of a trout stream—is remarkably effective.

It is important to acknowledge that this is a product of its time. A reader today might encounter period-specific attitudes, particularly regarding class and traditional gender roles, which are woven into the domestic imagery of the early 1900s. Furthermore, those seeking complex, avant-garde experimentation will not find it; the poet is committed to a traditional structure that he feels best serves the "coupled bells of rhyme."

However, the experience of reading these poems is akin to sitting down with an old friend who possesses a sharp, observant eye for the world. What stays with you long after closing the book is the poet’s insistence that no one is truly insignificant. In an age of constant noise, the invitation to look at a tree or a house with "nobody in it" and see the sacredness within is a remarkably grounding experience.