premium
| Tuesday, April 13, 2010, 11:18:31 AM |
This is one of my fave poems since a kid. When my Grandma died when I was 21 we found a neat very old framed copy of it in her drawer. It now hangs in my dining room - just below a giant maple tree. Joyce Kilmer. 1886–1918 Trees I THINK that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the sweet earth's 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. (Yes,sadly the author was killed in WW1.) |
|
|