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Joyce Kilmer
I think that...
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...
The air is...
The air is like a butterfly
With frail blue wings
The happy earth looks at the sky
And...
It is stern...
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...
For nothing keeps...
For nothing keeps a poet
In his high singing mood
Like unappeasable hunger
For unattainable...
There is no...
There is no peace to be taken
With poets who are young,
For they worry about the wars to be fought
and the...
I think that...
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...
The air is...
The air is like a butterfly
With frail blue wings
The happy earth looks at the sky
And...
It is stern...
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...
For nothing keeps...
For nothing keeps a poet
In his high singing mood
Like unappeasable hunger
For unattainable...
There is no...
There is no peace to be taken
With poets who are young,
For they worry about the wars to be fought
and the...