TREES

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.


A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth's 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. 

-Joyce Kilmer