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.


Joyce Kilmer schreef dit gedicht,maar hij overleefde de Eerste Wereldoorlog niet:op 30 Juli 1918 sneuvelde hij in Frankrijk.Deze Amerikaanse soldaat werd begraven in 'Oise-Aisne American Cemetery'.


23:03 Gepost door md ff in Actualiteit | Permalink | Commentaren (0) | Tags: wo 1, gedicht |  Facebook |

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