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.
*Alfred Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918), born in New Brunswick, New Jersey was a prolific poet, as well as a journalist, literary critic, lecturer and editor. He is remembered most for this poem written in 1913.