Main street and other poems / by Joyce Kilmer [electronic text]

About this Item

Title
Main street and other poems / by Joyce Kilmer [electronic text]
Author
Kilmer, Joyce, 1886-1918
Publication
New York: George H. Doran Company
1917
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Link to this Item
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/BAH7920.0001.001
Cite this Item
"Main street and other poems / by Joyce Kilmer [electronic text]." In the digital collection American Verse Project. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/BAH7920.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed April 23, 2025.

Pages

Page 22

A BLUE VALENTINE

(For Aline)
MONSIGNORE,Right Reverend Bishop Valentinus, Sometime of Interamna, which is called Ferni, Now of the delightful Court of Heaven, I respectfully salute you, I genuflect And I kiss your episcopal ring.
It is not, Monsignore, The fragrant memory of your holy life, Nor that of your shining and joyous martyrdom, Which causes me now to address you. But since this is your august festival, Monsignore, It seems appropriate to me to state According to a venerable and agreeable custom, That I love a beautiful lady. Her eyes, Monsignore, Are so blue that they put lovely little blue reflections

Page 23

On everything that she looks at, Such as a wall Or the moon Or my heart. It is like the light coming through blue stained glass, Yet not quite like it, For the blueness is not transparent, Only translucent. Her soul's light shines through, But her soul cannot be seen. It is something elusive, whimsical, tender, wanton, infantile, wise And noble. She wears; Monsignore, a blue garment, Made in the manner of the Japanese. It is very blue— I think that her eyes have made it more blue, Sweetly staining it As the pressure of her body has graciously given it form.

Page 24

Loving her, Monsignore, I love all her attributes; But I believe That even if I did not love her I would love the blueness of her eyes, And her blue garment, made in the manner of the Japanese.
Monsignore, I have never before troubled you with a request. The saints whose ears I chiefly worry with my pleas are the most exquisite and maternal Brigid, Gallant Saint Stephen, who puts fire in my blood, And your brother bishop, my patron, The generous and jovial Saint Nicholas of Bari. But, of your courtesy, Monsignore, Do me this favour: When you this morning make your way To the Ivory Throne that bursts into bloom with roses because of her who sits upon it,

Page 25

When you come to pay your devoir to Our Lady, I beg you, say to her: "Madame, a poor poet, one of your singing servants yet on earth, Has asked me to say that at this moment he is especially grateful to you For wearing a blue gown."
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