Falling Leaves

I THINK that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed
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.

Joyce Kilmer. 1886-1918

Of course this is in my backyard
It's an English Lime and we all love it.
And before you ask?.No I would not even think of such a thing (and it's too big anyway)