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Trees

Joyce Kilmer · 1913

1I think that I shall never see

2A poem lovely as a tree.

3A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

4Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

5A tree that looks at God all day,

6And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

7A tree that may in Summer wear

8A nest of robins in her hair;

9Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

10Who intimately lives with rain.

11Poems are made by fools like me,

12But only God can make a tree.