I think that I shall never see
A poem as 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 fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
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| Basil |
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| Ash Tree |
Trees
by Sara Coleridge
The oak is called the king of trees,
The aspen quivers in the breeze,
The poplar grows up straight and tall,
The peach tree spreads along a wall,
The sycamore gives pleasant shade,
The willow droops in watery glade
The fir tree useful timber gives
The beech amid the forest lives.
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| Aspen |
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| Sage |
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