The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1916-1920, 1918-08-18
JOYCE KILMER, POET,
IS KILLED IN ACTION
New York Soldier, Fighting
With Old 69th,, Falls in
Victorious Drive.
VISION OF HIS OWN END
His Poem "Rouge Bouquet"
Reveals His Devotion to
Great Crusade.
VISION OF HIS OWN END

J0NCe hllITtE, oitC u t"S h'OSs "NeN's
Known Of the younger poets OF America,
I. dead In France-killed In the recent
egh,,ne in which many American units,
PARTICULARLY the old Sixty-ninth. now the
1s5,h, distinguished themselves for the
mart they played in driving the German
hordes from the Marine to the Vesle.
His name has not appeared in cas-
,a,ty list, but word okhis death reached
nj, friends in this city yesterday.
K,lmer was a sergeant in the old
sixty.ninth, q position which he filled
with all the zeal of crusader. 1t was
on,v last week that he was mentioned in
a despatch to THE EVENING SUF as as
,,stlns Major william Donovan in a
daring enterprise along the River ourca.
From the beginning Of the war he was
i,aamed against Germany for her bar
b,rous treatment OF the Belglans. but
his most scathlng attack on German
-u,b,essness followed the murder OF
American women and children on the
I,nsitania. His article scourging Teu-
ion methods of warfare appeared In the
daily press and caused widespread COM
ment
vision of His own End.
II seems entirely probable that Kill
rrer. like Alan Seeger. had a vision OF
his own end, for in his last poem, Rouge
Bououet," published in the September
edition Of Scribner's, he sang OF death
in battle with sadness, but never re-
sret-it is a noble death. as he visual
ICES It. His love for tbe, land on whose
son he was nghting is aVested by the
line There is on eartkno worthier
grave" but here is the poem in full:
ROUGE BOUQUET.
By Joyce Klmer.
~ a wood they call the Rouge Bouquet
. There is a new made grave to-day.
Built by never a spade nor pick
Ysf covered with earth ten meters thick.
There lie many fighting men,
Dead In their youthful prime,
Never to laugh nor love again
Nor taste the summertime.
And stopped his flight at the dugout stair.
Touched his prey and left them there.
He hid their bodies stealthily
In the soil Of the land they fought to free
And fed away. -.
Now over the grave abrupt and clear
And perhaps ss their Brave young spirits hear
The buele sing:
60 TO sleep!
Go to sleep.
slumber well where the shell screamed and
fen. ..--., ---'-'s
Let your rifles rest on the muddy floor.
You will not need them any more.
Dangers past;
Now at last.
Go to sleep!" .-.-. .
There Is on earth no worthier grave
To hold the bodies of the brave
Than this place of pain and pride
Where they nobly fought and nobly died.
Never fear but in the ekies ''t
Saints and angels stand
Smiling with their holy eyes
On this new come band.
St Michael SWORD darts through the all
And touches the aureole his hair
As he sees them stand saluting there,
His stalwart sons:
And Patrick. Brigid. Coiumkill
Rejoice that In veins of warriors still
The Gaei's blood runs.
And up TO Heavens g doorway floats
From the wood called Rouge Bouquet,
A delicate cloud of bugIenotes
That softly say: .
Farewell! =
Farewell!
Comrades true. born anew. peace TO you!
Your souls shall be where the heroes ar,
And your memory shine like the morninl
star.
Brave and dear,
Shield us here. y
FAREWELL"