Trees
The few of you who actually know me personally know I'm about as far from religion as can be. Bearing that in mind - I liked this poem very much.
This Joyce Kilmer died as a soldier in World War 1 somewhere in France. There has to be some irony there.
Joyce Kilmer 1886–1918.
Trees
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth's 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.
This Joyce Kilmer died as a soldier in World War 1 somewhere in France. There has to be some irony there.
Joyce Kilmer 1886–1918.
Trees
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth's 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.
Sorry if it's a trite one. It was new to me.
