I think that I shall never seeA poem lovely as a tree.A tree whose hungry mouth is pressedAgainst the earth’s sweet flowing breast;A tree that looks at God all dayAnd lifts her leafy arms to...

The air is like a butterfly/ With frail blue wings/ The happy earth looks at the sky/ And sings.

I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree

But only God can make a tree.

It is stern work, it is perilous work to thrust your hand in the sun And pull out a spark of immortal flame to warm the hearts of men.

There is no peace to be taken/ With poets who are young,/ For they worry about the wars to be fought/ and the songs that must be sung.