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.
BY JOYCE KILMER
Perhaps a poem should be written about these silent trees.
GMO = GOD MOVE OVER
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.
BY JOYCE KILMER
Perhaps a poem should be written about these silent trees.
GMO = GOD MOVE OVER
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