TREES

by Alfred Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918)*

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.

* Columbia College, Class of 1908; Vice President of the
Philolexian Society.