~ Sergeant Joyce Kilmer
165th Infantry (69th New York), A.E.F.
(Born December 6, 1886; killed in action near Ourcy, July 30, 1918)
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.
~ Autumn joy