Joyce Kilmer
I think that I shall never seeA poem lovely as a tree.A tree whose hungry mouth is prestAgainst 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 wearA 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.
I think that I shall never seeA poem lovely as a tree.A tree whose hungry mouth is prestAgainst 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 wearA 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.
I think that I shall never seeA poem lovely as a tree.
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prestAgainst the earth’s sweet flowing breast;
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
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 looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wearA nest of robins in her hair;
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.
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.
The air is like a butterflyWith frail blue wings.The happy earth looks at the skyAnd sings.
The air is like a butterflyWith frail blue wings.The happy earth looks at the skyAnd sings.
The air is like a butterflyWith frail blue wings.The happy earth looks at the skyAnd sings.
The air is like a butterfly
With frail blue wings.
The happy earth looks at the sky
And sings.