Page:Trees Kilmer.djvu/28

TREES AND OTHER POEMS OLD POETS

F I should live in a forest

And sleep underneath a tree,

No grove of impudent saplings

Would make a home for me.

I'd go where the old oaks gather,

Serene and good and strong,

And they would not sigh and tremble

And vex me with a song.

The pleasantest sort of poet

Is the poet who's old and wise,

With an old white beard and wrinkles

About his kind old eyes.

For these young flippertigibbets

A-rhyming their hours away

They won't be still like honest men

And listen to what you say.

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