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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. This poem is in the public domain.
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A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest...
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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. The poem is in the public domain.
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.
And in her book Labour and Childhood (1907) you will find this sentence: 'Apparatus can be made by fools, but only God can make a tree.' [32] It appears that Davenport must have loosely and erroneously paraphrased the sentiments expressed by McMillan, as this exact quote does not appear in her text.
Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree. If it makes sense to compare a poem and a tree, it’s because both poems and trees are created. However, whereas humans can make poems, “only God can make a tree.” With these lines, it at last becomes clear why no poem could be as lovely as a tree: namely, because no human ...
‘Trees’ by Joyce Kilmer contains a speaker’s impassioned declaration that no art can outdo one of God’s creations, especially not a tree. The poem begins with the speaker stating that he will never see a poem that is more beautiful than a tree.
A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest 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 ...