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Saturday, December 02, 2006

I Think


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 bosom
snow has lain;
Who intimately
lives with rain.
Poems are made
by fools like me,
But only God
can make a tree.

1 Comments:

Blogger Dawniy said...

how lovely !!!

Wednesday, 06 December, 2006  

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