Trees (For Mrs. Henry Mills Alden) I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the earth's swe… - Joyce Kilmer

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree.

It seems appropriate to me to state According to a venerable and agreeable custom, That I love a beautiful lady. Her eyes, Monsignore, Are so blue that they put lovely little blue reflections On everything that she looks at, Such as a wall Or the moon Or my heart.

David is the song upon God's lips, And Our Lady is the goblet that He sips: And 's the breath of His command, But Saint Michael is the sword in God's right hand. The is fair to see, And may her walls encompass me! But when the Devil comes with the thunder of his might, Saint Michael, show me how to fight!

The fairy poet takes a sheet
Of moonbeam, silver white;
His ink is dew from daisies sweet,
His pen a point of light.