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 ***** snow has lain,
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me
But only God can make a tree.
By Joyce Kilmer. To find out more about this early 20th century late poet, the article is found in the Catholic Knights of Columbus Columbia Magazine, which should be accessible through the following link: https://issuu.com/columbia-magazine/docs/columbiajun18en?mode=embed&layout=http%3A%2F%2Fskin.issuu.com%2Fv%2Flight%2Flayout.xml&showFlipBtn=true
