TREES

I 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 as God all day

and lift her leafy arms to pray;

A tree 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