Trees
(For Mrs. Henry Mills Alden)
I think that I shall never seeA poem lovely as a tree.A tree whose hungry mouth is prestAgainst 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 wearA 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.
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