I am wild, I will sing to the trees,
I will sing to the stars in the sky,
I love, I am loved, he is mine,
Now at last I can die!
I am sandaled with wind and with flame,
I have heart-fire and singing to give,
I can tread on the grass or the stars,
Now at last I can live!
Your friends shall be the Tall Wind,
The River and the Tree;
The Sun that laughs and marches,
The Swallows and the Sea.
Your prayers shall be the murmur
Of grasses in the rain;
The song of wildwood thrushes
That makes God glad again.
And you shall run and wander,
And you shall dream and sing
Of brave things and bright things
Beyond the swallow’s wings.
And you shall envy no man,
Nor hurt your heart with sighs,
For I will keep you simple
That God may make you wise.
Pat O’Cotter
And Thou art One–One with th’ eternal hills,
And with the flaming stars, and with the moon,
Translucent, cold. The sentinel of noon
That clothes the sky in robes of light and fills
The earth with warmth, the flowering fields, the rills,
The waving trees, the south wind’s elfin rune,
Are One with Thee. All nature is in tune
With Thee, O Father, God–and if one wills
To humbly walk the fragrant, leaf-strewn path
And kneel in reverence ‘neath the vaulted sky,
Hearing the hymnals of the waving trees
And prayers of the soughing winds–what hath
He less of heaven in him than we, who cry,
“God in our creeds doth dwell and not in these?”
Trees
Joyce Kilmer
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.
Winter Trees
William Carlos Williams
