I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;A tree that looks at Gods 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 Gods can make a tree.
(Source: woman-taken-by-the-wind)