I THINK that
I shall never see
|
A poem lovely
as a tree.
|
A tree whose
hungry mouth is pressed
|
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. 1886–1918 |
