Trees - 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

by Joyce Kilmer