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.

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.
               (Who gave his life In France)