"Trees" by Joyce Kilmer
I think that I shall never
see be
A
poem poet, lovely
as a tree and oh so free.
A
tree poet whose
hungry mouth tender hand is prest
Against
the earth's sweet flowing my own swift-beating breast;
A
tree child of nature that looks at God all day who plays all day,
And lifts her
leafy hippie arms to
pray sway;
A
tree poet 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
not made by fools like me,
But only As plainly you and God can
make a tree see.
Original word count: 80
Number of words added: 29
Number of words stricken out: 27