Monday, August 18, 2014

The Tree

 
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 hungry 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!

Joyce Kilmer 
 
** Photo taken on the grounds of the Old Pocono Mountain Inn Pa.

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