TREES a poem by Sergeant Joyce Kilmer born December 6, 1886 165th
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 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.