Parts of childhood remain forever in the human heart.
When my sisters and I were little, my mother used to recite poetry. On the spur of the moment, she could bring to memory every line of a poem learned in her own elementary school days. That always amazed me.
One of her favorites was a poem called "Trees." It was written by Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918). As an adult, it surprised me to learn that Kilmer was a man. His full name was Alfred Joyce Kilmer.
His poem on trees made a lasting impression in my mind and heart. I was very moved when I read that Kilmer died in battle while serving in the U.S. Infantry. He was only 31 years old when he died.
The tree shown in this post must be very old. It's thick trunk is huge and gnarled. It's actually on the grounds of the National Shrine of the Divine Mercy in Stockbridge, Massachusetts.
Here is Alfred Joyce Kilmer's poem on trees. As I write this, tears are filling my eyes because I can hear the intonations in my Mummy's voice as she recited this poem to us. I sure miss her presence in my life as she died four years ago. (Thanks for introducing me to this lovely poem, Mummy.)
Trees
A poem as 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.
DO YOU HAVE A FAVORITE POEM?