Lusting Beauty . . .

Of 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;


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