Trees Songtext
von David Whitfield

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree
A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed
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