trees
I think that i shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Againsr the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at god all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pry;
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.