I was raised in New Brunwick, New Jersey. Our house was about 10 blocks from Joyce Kilmer's house. Anyone who went to school in New Brunswick is familiar with this poem. You had to memorize and recite it upon request.
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.
by Sgt. Joyce Kilmer