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