TREES 1913 |
I THINK THAT I SHALL NEVER SEE
A POEM AS LOVELY AS A TREE.
A TREE WHOSE HUNGRY MOUTH
IS PRESSED,
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.
