Monday, October 18, 2010

The colors of autumn

This is the tree outside our street on the boulevard. 

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.

Alfred Joyce Kilmer (December 6, 1886 – July 30, 1918)

I can't believe that this poem was brought back to my memory when I took the picture of this tree.   This is one of those poems that was a mandatory lesson in high school.

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