[jazusamo]

Trees

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

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 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.

Joyce Kilmer

[left that other site]

I had to memorize that poem in every grade, since we lived in Joyce Kilmer’s hometown.

Or course, we sniggered every time we said “breast” or “bosom”, and thought it especially weird that “Joyce: was a MAN...and a WW1 Vet, at that!