Pablo Picasso
House in a Garden
Trees
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 who looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray.
A tree who may in summer wear,
A robin's nest upon 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.
~ Joyce Kilmer ~
