Wedded to a Tree

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.

Trees
Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918)



I wish to wed a mango tree,
Strong and firm,
that wears a thick coat of fresh green leaves.
His mind rooted deep to the earth beneath;
that the roughest storms fail to defeat.


With arms long and brown risen up to the skies,
where at the onset of rains,
an inconsolable bird,
seated atop his limbs,
sends out the sweetest of its cries.

As the season of productivity arrives,
He boasts a rich robe of blossoms,
a bounty of fruits sweet as honey,
sweeter than that milled in any Bee's hive.

And his cool and comforting foliage welcomes all alike,
to find a momentary place for respite.

In such a tree I shall carve a small groove to nestle;
for it will provide for all my needs.

If occasionally, I fly far away from my nest,
then on return I would find,
my great mango tree welcoming
with his widened chest,
to embrace me within his secured presence,
with comforting love and assurance.

by Soubarna