The Morning Tulsa daily world. [volume] (Tulsa, Okla.) 1919-1927, 1922-11-26
Footsteps of US. Heroes
Upon French BQftLefelds

charge on the German trenches in
Beiloyen -Santerre he was Killed. 1t
was only several weeks after the war
broke out that he entered the
French Foreign Legion in which he
fought TO the day OF his death
Reared In the lap OF luxury, schoOled
In the United states and France.
graduate OF Harvard. and closely as
ISOLATED with the best intellectuals
OF Paris. before the war came, his
name had become known as poet
through his "Juvenlla."
with no knowledge Of hardshlpA
and of delicate health he Jumped in
10 the thick of active field service
slept In the trenches did sentry
duty and fought again and again un-
I'll his death rendezvous came. His
constitution hardened under the ter
rible gruelling that such soldiers
had; and he was strong enough TO
write some OF his most wonderful
poems on the very eve OF n battle
He wrote better and better up to
the day he was killed, and his work
will last as one OF the literary land
marks OF the war. His poems have
been collected and published by
Scribners, and sold to such an ex-
lcAh AlIdl lIlt lpSulAItS lINul lutHl
have already amounted to many
thousands of dollars. Most Of this
sum Mr. and Mrs. Seeger have given
to the Bellies Lettres branch of the
American library in Paris; and the
remainder they are donating to the
libraries now being established for
the French by the American com
mittee for the devastated regions
The French have $50 appreciated
Alan Seeger that they have given
100000 francs to establish a monu-
ment TO the Foreign Legion, consist
Ing OF a pedestal on which is his
statue by one of the leading sculp-
tors OF France. This is now being
made and It will soon be erected In
the Place des Etats-U -Unis, where
President Wilson lived while at the
peace conference.
close this feeble tribute with two
verses from Tho Rendezvous With
DEATH"
"r have n rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade,
When Spring comes back with ruet-
ling shade
And apple blossoms fiji the air.
I have a rendezvous with Death
When Spring brings back blue days
and fair.
God knows 'twere better TO be deep
Pillowed in silk and scented down.
Where Love throbs out in blissful
sleep,
Pulse nigh TO pulse and breath TO
breath,
Where hushed awakenings are dear.
But I've a rendezvous with Death
At midnight in some flaming town,
When Spring trips north again this
year.
And to my pledged word am true,
shall not fail that rendezvous"
The Grave OF Joyce KiImer.
II Is now one year since l motored
from Paris out to a little American
cemetery not far from Chateau
Thierry where, under a plain wood
en- cross. lie the remains OF Joyce
Kilmer. an American boy, who wrote
the most beautiful poem ever made
to tree. Many OF you, like me,
have committed It to memory. 1t
reads;
II think that shall never see
A poem lovely as 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
The cemetery In which Kilmer lies
is beautifully kept, and the grass is
green over his grave, but there is
no tree within a quarter Of a mile
and the sun beats down without re-
straint upon the hundreds OF little
white crosses standing there. Ser
geant Kilmers grave is surrounded
by the crosses Of little known SOL
diers, and It was only by accident
that one OF our party found Il and
brought us 10 the spot. As looked
at the cross ! thought OF young Kill
mer's poem IN which he painted the
agony of our Saviour on Calvary and
thus made tho less OF his own suffer
! ings rs a soldier.
MY shoulders ache beneath my
pack
(Lie easier Cross, upon His back)
l march with feet that burn and
smart
! (Tread, Holy Feet, upon my hearD
| Men shout at me who may not speak
| (They scouraged Thy back and
smote Thy cheek,
My rifle hand IL stiff and numb
! (From Thy pierced palm red rivers
GOMEZ,
| Lord. Thou dldst suffer more for me
| Than all the hosts OF land and sea.
| SO let me render back again
| This millionth OF Thy gift, Amen.
Could any man leave better
| monument than that?
on that same day l saw the grave
| Of Quentin Roosevelt and bowed my
| head over the remains OF the son Of
! our greatest American since Abra .
! ham Lincoln was assassinated in
| Ford's theater at Washington, d. G,
! Quentin lies on the side OF hill near
where he fell with his fighting air
plane. There are forest trees near
I