Tree Poems

These tree poems are ones that show an appreciation for the trees surrounding us. We hope the verses in these nature poems are ones that will remind you of the natural beauty of the trees that surround us. ones that you can relate to.


Trees
Poet:  Joyce Kilmer

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.

Related Topics:
Poems About Birds  |   Tree Quotes  |   Spring Poems  |  




Love the trees until their leaves fall off, then encourage them to try again next year.
 Chad Sugg



The Carnival Of The Trees
Poet: E. A. Lehman


The trees have been keeping for many a year
A carnival time, ere the leaves are sere,
The Sour-wood put on his sweetest smile.
To show his good temper just once in a while;
His red leaves were glowing like crimson fire,
As the South Wind tried to arouse his ire.

Bold Boreas worried the Hickory trees
And made them as angry as they could be.
Their bright yellow leaves were skirling around
In the mellow sunlight, flecking the ground.
The Sweet-Gum had decked her with carven balls,
For the Brownies to play through the woodland halls;
They chatter and clatter, as football they play,
And grin at each other the live-long day.

Do you see the woodland nymphs as they dance.
Peering through the dim aisles, as they eye us askance,
Advancing, retreating, gliding soft and slow.
With twinkling feet, o'er the leaf-strewn floor?
The Sumach has spread out his crimson cones
To tempt the birds from their forest homes.
The Hawthorn berries, like rubies, gleam.
Against the leaves with their emerald sheen.

The Red Oak has flung his banner to the breeze,
He glitters and shines, like a king, 'mid the trees.
But the hectic flush of a swift decay
Marks them all for Death, and they may not stay.
The chill winds of November come wailing by.
And their golden splendor in ruins must lie.

The waning year does his best for us all.
Enriching each season with its fruits as they fall;
The corn, the tobacco, the golden grain,
The apples, the purpling grapes of the plain.
O New Year! we hail thee with radiant joy;
Bring us treasures and gifts without alloy;
We'll do our best with each passing day
To make a good record ere thou glidest away!

Related Topics:
Poems About Life  |   October Poems  |   Winter Poems  |  




Woodman, Spare That Tree
Poem by George P. Morris

Woodman, spare that tree!
Touch not a single bough!
In youth it sheltered me,
And I'll protect it now.
'Twas my forefather's hand
That placed it near his cot:
There, woodman, let it stand,
Thy axe shall harm it not!

That old familiar tree,
Whose glory and renown
Are spread o'er land and sea,
And wouldst thou hew it down?
Woodman, forbear thy stroke!
Cut not its earth-bound ties;
Oh, spare that aged oak,
Now towering to the skies!

When but an idle boy
I sought its grateful shade;
In all their gushing joy
Here too my sisters played.
My mother kissed me here;
My father pressed my hand -
Forgive this foolish tear,
But let that old oak stand!

My heart-strings round thee cling,
Close as thy bark, old friend!
Here shall the wild-bird sing,
And still thy branches bend.
Old tree! the storm still brave!
And, woodman, leave the spot:
While I've a hand to save,
Thy axe shall hurt it not.

Related Topics:
Famous Poems About Dawn  |   Poems About Joy  |   Poems About Strength  |  




The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago. The second best time is now.
 Chinese Proverb



The Sound of the Trees
Poet:  Robert Frost

I wonder about the trees.
Why do we wish to bear
Forever the noise of these
More than another noise
So close to our dwelling place?
We suffer them by the day
Till we lose all measure of pace,
And fixity in our joys,
And acquire a listening air.
They are that that talks of going
But never gets away;
And that talks no less for knowing,
As it grows wiser and older,
That now it means to stay.
My feet tug at the floor
And my head sways to my shoulder
Sometimes when I watch trees sway,
From the window or the door.
I shall set forth for somewhere,
I shall make the reckless choice
Some day when they are in voice
And tossing so as to scare
The white clouds over them on.
I shall have less to say,
But I shall be gone.

Related Topics:
Wisdom Poems  |   Life Choices  |   Garden Poems  |  




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