by Joyce Kilmer
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
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.
In
1938, the federal government purchased 3,800 acres of old growth
forest in North Carolina to stop extensive logging. The tract of
forest was dedicated to the memory and service of Kilmer. His name
has also been given to many streets and schools across the country as
well as a park in the Bronx, New York City.
Joyce
Kilmer was born in New Brunswick, New Jersey in 1886. Known for
poetry that celebrated the common beauty of the natural world as well
as his religious faith, he was killed after enlisting in the United
States Army during World War I. Kilmer was awarded by the French the
prestigious Croix de Guerre for his bravery.
