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.

This poem has come up several times in the last couple of months. Every time I saw it, it seemed both familiar and new. I think it struck me most deeply the week after Easter. I was driving to church and marveled at how perfectly blue the sky was and how deep a green the trees were. It was as if they had been waiting for the perfect morning to bloom, and that morning was it.

And then, this poem kept coming to mind. As I have said in the past, I love short poems, and this one is no different. These simple couplets of iambic tetrameter are among my favorite. Even if it was just the first and last couplet, the poem would be whole. Yet the four in the middle paint such a perfect picture. First, we look to nature and how dependent a sturdy tree goes. Then to the spirit (though not that a tree has a spirit, we see a glimpse at the simple trust God’s creation has in Him). This tree is always in the presence of God and “acknowledges” that fact. Then, to duty. As it has grown and trusts, now it cares for others. As its life continues, its boughs are replaced with a blanket of snow. Finally, we are brought back to that second verse with the fourth where water is the source of its life. And so also it is an example for us. Born on this earth and made alive by water, we turn in prayer and thanksgiving to God. And after we lived out our vocation in this life, we return to that from which we came. So we have Spring, summer, and winter. Birth, life, and death. A perfect round of life.

In this poem, there is a perfect recognition. God has given us many skills and gifts with which we praise Him. We can enjoy and praise all these things in simple lines of poetry, but the divine poetry of life and creation can only be made by God. He has given us poetic examples for us to live by on this earth, perhaps that His invisible attributes might be understood by us. Each of us might find that perfect poem in a flower, a bird, or a candle’s flame, though each is an incomplete analogy. So we take God’s created poetry into our poems’ infant grasp to see His will for us.

Blessings to you and yours,

~Madelyn Rose Craig