A Tree
A Tree
![](https://cdn.storymirror.com/static/1pximage.jpeg)
![](https://cdn.storymirror.com/static/1pximage.jpeg)
I think I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree,
A poem 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;
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.