Monday, January 5, 2026

New England's Native Oak Trees [ And the poem " Trees " by Joyce Kilmer ]

[ "I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest 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. "]

No comments:

Post a Comment

Comments that are courteous, concise and relevant are always welcome, whether or not they agree with the views expressed here or not. Profanity is not necessary. Thank you for reading “Time Enough At Last!”

Ron