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.
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📖 About this poem
Kilmer's little poem is really an argument dressed up as a compliment: nothing a poet makes can rival what grows wild outside the window. Twelve lines of rhyming couplets, simple and almost songlike, give it the feel of something you could recite from memory after one reading — which is exactly why it's stayed so popular for over a century.
What makes it linger are the images that turn the tree into a living, almost human figure: a mouth pressed hungrily against the earth, arms lifted in prayer, a nest of robins worn like hair. These small acts of personification ask us to see a tree not as scenery but as a quiet, devoted creature going about its life.
The closing couplet lands as both humility and confession — poems are clever tricks, but growth, rain, and sunlight are the real miracle. That plainspoken awe is why the poem still resonates.
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