مطلب جالب

TREES
 
      (by Joyce Kilmer - 1886-1918)  
 
  
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed
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 people like me,
But only God can make a tree

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