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Saturday, June 12, 2010


THINK that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is press
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 make a tree

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