The following poem, Trees, by the American poet Joyce Kilmer 1886-1918, plays on the personification of trees. The roots of his trees breast feed from Mother Earth. Their branches, like arms, address God in prayer. His trees are vain and wear birds' nests as hats. Trees are us and we are trees. But poems can't compete with the beauty of trees. Trees are God's poems.
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.