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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Joyce Kilmer

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

Trees

Joyce Kilmer

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.