• deepikab1128 9w


    I think I shall never see
    A poem lovely as a tree.

    A tree whose hungry mouth is press
    Against the Earth sweet flowering breast:

    A tree that looks at God all day
    And lifts her leafy arms to pray:

    A tree that may have in summer
    A nest of Robin in her hair

    Upon whose blossom snow has lain
    Who intimately glow as a green emerald in the rain.

    Poems are made by immortals like me,
    But only God can make gems like the tree.