Trees - David Whitfield, Kilmer, Oscar Rasbach

I think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree

A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed

Against the sweet Earth’s 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

But only God can make a tree