Author: iamaadhyam

Trees

I think that I shall never see 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.

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