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.
(I guess every high school student will be asked to read or memorize this poem. My teacher made our class memorize the poem and 8 years later, I remember only bits of every stanza. I love trees and I like this poem. This is an ode to the big talisay tree that the road widening group had to cut down for the sake of the so-called progress.)