Trees, by Joyce Kilmer

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 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.

poems.one - Joyce Kilmer

Joyce Kilmer