Trees<br>By Joyce Kilmer<br>I think that I shall never see <br>A poem lovely as a tree. <br>A tree whose hungry mouth is prest <br>Against the earths sweet flowing breast; <br>A tree that looks at God all day,<br>And lifts her leafy arms to pray; <br>A tree that may in Summer wear <br>A nest of robins in her hair; <br>Upon whose bosom snow has lain; <br>Who intimately lives with rain. <br>Poems are made by fools like me, <br>But only God can make a tree.<br>Trees was published in August 1913. Kilmer died from a snipers bullet on a battlefield in France on July 30, 1918, at the age of 31.
