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.
OK, the truth is I backdated this post to just before midnight 2/2/08. I missed it, but feel like I am close enough to cheat and get in on the game. I chose this poem because yesterday my husband and I had an argument in which we pitted our respective knowledge bases against each other. We stopped at the Joyce Kilmer rest area on the Jersey Turnpike, and I said "Oh, Joyce Kilmer. He wrote 'Trees'!" Mr Wonderful denied this, and attributed the poem to another source. Now, bear in mind, he 'hates poetry', but I would expect his pricier education (Northfield Mount Hermon??) to have served him here. Me? I am a high school drop-out.
I WIN, I WIN, I WIN!! HAH!!
More posting soon - I have been released from the clutches of the pirate (aka Mr. W.), who kept me only by using foul means - froo-froo drinks, knitting with my toes in the Caribbean, and amazing food. Very effective. In fact, so effective I did not wish to be released, and had to be forced to return home!