Ha sido una jornada intensa.
Terminaré el día con este paseo imaginario...
Trees
I think that I shall never see
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.
Por Joyce Kilmer, 1886–1918
Perdió su vida en la Primera Guerra Mundial
Créditos foto: Angelrays
