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

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

The place is all awave with trees,
Limes, myrtles, purple-beaded,
Acacias having drunk the lees
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The place is all awave with trees,
Limes, myrtles, purple-beaded,
Acacias having drunk the lees
Of the night-dew, fain headed,
And wan, grey olive-woods, which seem
The fittest foliage for a dream.

I have seen the wicked in great power, and spreading himself like
a green bay tree.

I have seen the wicked in great power, and spreading himself like
a green bay tree.

No tree in all the grove but has its charms,
Though each its hue peculiar.

No tree in all the grove but has its charms,
Though each its hue peculiar.

Oh, leave this barren spot to me!
Spare, woodman, space the beechen tree!

Oh, leave this barren spot to me!
Spare, woodman, space the beechen tree!

Plant no other tree before the vine.
[Lat., Nullam vare, sacra vite prius arborem.]

Plant no other tree before the vine.
[Lat., Nullam vare, sacra vite prius arborem.]

I like trees because they seem more resigned to the way they have
to live than other things do.

I like trees because they seem more resigned to the way they have
to live than other things do.

I think that I shall never scan
A tree as lovely as a man.
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I think that I shall never scan
A tree as lovely as a man.
. . . .
A tree depicts divinest plan,
But God himself lives in a man.

This is the forest primeval.

This is the forest primeval.