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 flowing breast;




A tree that looks at God all day, 5
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. 10

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.