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.