Why Don’t You Make Like A Tree And Get Outta Here?
I think that I shall never seeA poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prestAgainst 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 wearA 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. By Joyce Kilmer We had to…