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.
~ Joyce Kilmer,
“Trees"