The Old Oak Tree

TREES

by: Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918)

 THINK that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a 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.

Read more at http://www.poetry-archive.com/k/trees.html#FRhWsPH5yLBwAsHc.99

Joyce Kilmer wrote a simple poem that most everyone knows that perfectly describes trees.  What most people don't know is that Joyce was a man.  I can't say that I've ever heard of another guy named Joyce.  I was thinking that Joyce must have been a tough fellow to have grown up being named Joyce.  I can only imagine the teasing and ridicule he received on the playground.

Turns out, if you read here you can learn that he was indeed a man.  A hero, in fact. Joyce died at the young age of 31 in France in World War 1:

During the Second Battle of Marne there was heavy fighting throughout the last days of July 1918. On 30 July 1918, Kilmer volunteered to accompany Major William "Wild Bill" Donovan (later, in World War II, the founder of theOffice of Strategic Services, forerunner to the Central Intelligence Agency) when Donovan's battalion (1–165th Infantry) was sent to lead the day's attack.

During the course of the day, Kilmer led a scouting party to find the position of a German machine gun. When his comrades found him, some time later, they thought at first that he was peering over the edge of a little hill, where he had crawled for a better view. When he did not answer their call, they ran to him and found him dead. According to Father Francis P. Duffy: “A bullet had pierced his brain. His body was carried in and buried by the side of Ames. God rest his dear and gallant soul.” A sniper's bullet likely killed him immediately. According to military records, Kilmer died on the battlefield near Muercy Farm, beside the Ourcq River near the village of Seringes-et-Nesles, in France, on 30 July 1918 at the age of 31. For his valor, Kilmer was posthumously awarded the Croix de Guerre (War Cross) by the French Republic.

Kilmer was buried in the Oise-Aisne American Cemetery and Memorial, near Fere-en-Tardenois, Aisne, Picardy, France. A cenotaph erected to his memory is located on the Kilmer family plot in Elmwood Cemetery, in New Brunswick, New Jersey. A memorial mass was held at St. Patrick's Cathedral in Manhattan on 14 October 1918.

The reason I started thinking about Mr. Kilmer's poem is regarding a story I'm going to tell you about an old live oak tree at the farm in Oberlin.  Here is a picture of it:

The Old Oak at Durio Cemetery

The old oak's limbs hang low and provide shade for the cows in the pasture as well as being a back rub for them.  The live oak is a fixture in the Southwest corner of the family cemetery and has been there for a couple hundred years, I'm sure.

The Old Live Oak at Durio Cemetery in Oberlin

It's limbs stretch out heaven-ward and birds and squirrels nest in them and raise their young.  Since Durio Cemetery is on a secluded back road, many kisses have been shared beneath those branches on Friday and Saturday nights.

The branches of the old oak

But our story today isn't all happy and romantic.  There is trouble in paradise.  The tree has split down the middle.  If you click on this link: Weathering the storms of life you can read (and see photos) about how we were successful in saving the big live oak at our house that had a similar, albeit not as serious, problem.  This tree's prognosis isn't as bright & cheery.  Unfortunately, it's going to have to come down.

Terminal tree trouble

You see, the heavy limbs of the tree have fallen on some of the older graves that lie beneath its sheltering limbs, damaging the old graves by the sheer weight.  Although the live oak tree is still alive, it is sickly and shows signs of rot and as the situation worsens, the entire east side of the tree threatens to come crashing down.

A grave situation

Dad and the Cemetery Commission met to discuss ways of salvaging the old oak and sadly, there's no saving it.  It will have to be cut down and moved to the pasture where we'll limb it, cut it up, and split it.  The limbs whose shade has provided shade and a respite from the heat for generations of the past will now be used to provide warmth for generations in the future.  Interesting how things change.

The Old Rugged Cross and Old Glory beneath the Old Oak

You can click the link here and read the names and see the graves and learn about the people buried here at Durio Cemetery. Most are my ancestors.  Some were born way back in the early 1800's and several tombstones mark the grave sites of soldiers in the Louisiana Infantry back in the Civil War.  It's a peaceful place of rest and it is quite sad that the shade you see in the photos above and below will no longer be providing a covering for the tombstones.  Some of the tombstones are old and crumbling.  Some of them are 'homemade' with names and dates scrawled into the wet cement before it dried.

A final place of rest

Sort of a sad and somber post, but I wanted to capture it in pictures and words before its gone.  Oh, we'll plant another tree there, but I don't have 200 years to see the glory of the replacement tree, and like Joyce Kilmer says, "Only God can make a tree."