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.
Trees are a poem in themselves. They dance in winds and pray with their branches spread out. The offered home to birds and insects, bear fruit and collect the snow. They undress in autumn and wear green robes in spring. The poet calls trees to be the poetry of God.
Year of Poem: 1914
Writer: Joyce Kilmer
Birthplace of Writer: United States