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TREES by Joyce Kilmer

I think that I shall never seeA poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prestAgainst 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 wearA 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.




Crystal Gazer

I shall gather myself into my self again,
I shall take my scattered selves and make them one.
I shall fuse them into a polished crystal ball
Where I can see the moon and the flashing sun.
I Shall sit like a sibyl, hour after hour intent.
Watching the future come and the present go -
And the little shifting pictures of people rushing
In tiny self-importance to and fro.
- Sara Teasdale