Trees / by Joyce Kilmere 1886/1918
I think that I shall never see , A a poem as lovely as a tree.
A tree whos hungry mouth is prest , Against Earths flowing breast.
A tree whos hungry mouth is prest , Against Earths 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 whos bosom snow has lain.Who constantly lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me
But only God can see a tree
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