Trees by Joyce Kilmer



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. http://www.poemhunter.com


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Catherine E. Mckinley had a deep desire to know about Indigo. It became her purpose.

First Chapter First Paragraph

Are these the types of lives we are seeing and reading about in the news today?