“Trees”
“I think that I shall never see
A poem as lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed
Against the sweet earth’s 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.
An American, born on December 6th, 1886, died on July 30th, 1918,
in the First World War, at 31 years of age.
Islander.