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I think that I

shall never see

A poem lovely as
a tree.

S que jams oir

un canto
tan primoroso
como un rbol,

A tree whose
hungry mouth is
Against the
earth's sweet
flowing breast;

que aprieta su boca

contra la tierra y se

A tree that looks

at God all day,
And lifts her leafy
arms to pray;

que mira todo el da

a Dios
y alza sus brazos en

A tree that may in

Summer wear
A nest of robins in
her hair;

que quiz luzca en

su melena
un nido o una

Upon whose
bosom snow has
Who intimately
lives with rain.

en cuyo seno cae la

que se estremece
cuando llueve.

Poems are made

by fools like me,
But only God can
make a tree.

Un poema lo hace
un rbol solo Dios
lo crea.
Created by
Cover courtesy of All other
artwork by Poem by Joyce
Kilmer (1886 1918)