Monday, October 26, 2009

I think that I shall never see....

...a poem as lovely as a tree.

That's what Joyce Kilmer wrote and he had never seen the trees in Oak Grove Cemetery. Some of those trees are absolutely amazing:


A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the sweet earth's 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.


  1. Trees are one of the things I miss most about New England (now that I live in south-central Texas). It's easy to miss fall here--one day you look out the window and notice the leaves have dropped off the trees and realize, well, we had fall. There's no riot of brilliant reds, oranges, and golds blazing against cobalt blue skies, no crisp clear days sprinkled with the smell of wood smoke from fireplaces burning last year's deadfall.

    Here the trees themselves are mere dwarfs compared to New England's trees--where I live few are more than 25 feet tall, due to low annual rainfall and poor soil. Until I moved here I didn't realize ranch houses are one-story structures because otherwise they'd be taller than the trees and receive no shade.

    So, Kathleen, thanks for the beautiful pictures. I'm feeling quite nostalgic.

  2. Nothing like a Fall walk among the crunchy leaves, looking up at those trees thinking about all they have seen come and go.

  3. I stopped at the cemetery this morning and that beautiful one with the gold leaves is completely bare now --- glad I caught it when I did!


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