When I Am Among the Trees, Mary Oliver
Trees, Harry Behn
Every Living Thing, Julie Gold
The Sugar-Plum Tree, Eugene Field
The Leaf and the Tree, Edna St. Vincent Millay
As I Looked, Delmore Schwartz
The Trees, Philip Larkin
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
You Ask Me Why I Make My Home in the Mountain Forest, Li Po
Gospel of the Trees, W.H. Auden
Woodman, Spare That Tree, George Pope Morris
The Loveliest of Trees, A.E. Housman
Listening to the Trees, Mandy Haggith
The Family Tree, Oliver Walters
Advice From a Tree, Ilan Shamir
Trees, Joyce Kilmer

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The Lowest Trees Have Tops, Sir Edward Dyer

 
 


When I Am Among the Trees
by Mary Oliver

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Trees
by Harry Behn

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Every Living Thing
by Julie Gold

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The Sugar-Plum Tree
by Eugene Field

Have you ever heard of the Sugar-Plum Tree?
‘T is a marvel of great renown!
It blooms on the shore of the Lollipop sea
In the garden of Shut-Eye Town;
The fruit that it bears is so wondrously sweet
(As those who have tasted it say)
That good little children have only to eat
Of that fruit to be happy next day.
When you ‘ve got to the tree, you would have a hard time
To capture the fruit which I sing;
The tree is so tall that no person could climb
To the boughs where the sugar-plums swing!
But up in that tree sits a chocolate cat,
And a gingerbread dog prowls below- -
And this is the way you contrive to get at
Those sugar-plums tempting you so:
You say but the word to that gingerbread dog
And he barks with such terrible zest
That the chocolate cat is at once all agog,
As her swelling proportions attest.
And the chocolate cat goes cavorting around
From this leafy limb unto that,
And the sugar-plums tumble, of course, to the ground- -
Hurrah for that chocolate cat!
There are marshmallows, gumdrops, and peppermint canes,
With stripings of scarlet or gold,
And you carry away of the treasure that rains
As much as your apron can hold!
So come, little child, cuddle closer to me
In your dainty white nightcap and gown,
And I ‘ll rock you away to that Sugar-Plum Tree
In the garden of Shut-Eye Town.

 
 
 

The Leaf and the Tree
by Edna St. Vincent Millay

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As I Looked
by Delmore Schwartz

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The Trees
by Philip Larkin

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Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost

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You Ask Me Why I Make My Home in Mountain Forest
by Li Po

You ask why I make my home in the mountain forest,
and I smile, and am silent,
and even my soul remains quiet:
it lives in the other world
which no one owns.
The peach trees blossom,
The water flows.

 
 
 

Gospel of the Trees
by W.H. Auden

A well-kempt forest begs Our Lady’s grace;
Someone is not disgusted, or at least
Is laying bets upon the human race
Retaining enough decency to last;
The trees encountered on a country stroll
Reveal a lot about a country’s soul.

A small grove massacred to the last ash,
An oak with heart-rot, give away the show:
This great society is going to smash;
They cannot fool us with how fast they go,
How much they cost each other and the gods.
A culture is no better than its woods.

 
 
 

Woodman, Spare that Tree
by George Pope Morris

Woodman spare that tree!
Touch not a single bough;
In youth it sheltered me,
And I’ll protect it now;
‘Twas my fore father’s hand
That placed it near the 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 hack it down?
Woodman, forbear thy stroke!
Cut not its earth, bound ties;
Oh! spare that ag-ed 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 kiss’d me here;
My father press’d 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 harm it not.

 
 
 

The Loveliest of Trees
by A.E. Housman

Loveliests of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.

Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.

And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.

 
 
 

Listening to the Trees
by Mandy Haggith

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The Family Tree
by Olive Walters

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Advice from a Tree
by Ilan Shamir

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Trees
by 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.