Trees

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 O, a tree that looks at God all day And lifts her leafy arms to pray A tree that may in summer wear Yeah, a nest of robins in her hair Upon whose bosom snow has lain Who intimately lives with rain [Incomprehensible] Poems are made by fools like me But only God can make a tree