Summit Park Hike
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 live with rain
Poems are made by fools like me
But only God can make a tree. Joyce Kilmer 1886-1918