(Poem by Joyce Kilmer)

Trees, I think that I shall never see
A poem 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

Tree, 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

Poems are made by fools like me
But only God can make a tree
(I think that I shall never see)