Scale Model Trees:
Poems about Trees
Trees, known as the green lungs of the earth, are selfless and greatness.They are a symbol of vitality and healthy.
They provide oxygen for humans, purify the air, beautify the environment, and help protect the ecological environment.
They also furnish food for animals, shelter them from wind and rain, and protect the natural balance.
Throughout the ages, regardless of the nation, there has been countless poetry praise for the trees.
Apple-Blossom - Mathilde Blind
Blossom of the apple trees!
Mossy trunks all gnarled and hoary,
Grey boughs tipped with rose-veined glory,
Clustered petals soft as fleece
Garlanding old apple trees!
Apple-Trees - Jessie Belle Rittenhouse
My childhood held a fairy sight—
A thousand apple-trees,
All pink and white for my delight
And humming with the bees.
Cedars - Grace Hazard Conkling
They are so dark, the cedars,
They keep so still a house!
Muffled in purple silence
They fold their brooding boughs.
Friendly Tree, This Is Your Day - Annette Wynne
Friendly tree, this is your day,
So we'll stop our work and play
And talk of you,
And all the good things that you do.
The Friendly Tree- Annette Wynne
I've found a place beside a friendly tree,
Where I'll hide my face when the world hurts me,
For the tree will never hurt; I shall love it to the end;
It shall have a dear, dear name:
"My true and silent friend."
Trees - Joyce Kilmer
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
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.
Trees - Joyce Kilmer
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
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.
To an Old Tree - Annette Wynne
The tree must stand, it cannot run;
Whatever comes of snow or sun
It has to bear; it has no fears;
Knowing not regret nor tears
It stands and stretches to the sky
Without a murmur, plaint or sigh—
And this has stood a thousand years,
And seen ten thousand storms go by!
The Tree That Lives Beside the Brook - Annette Wynne
The tree that lives beside the brook,
May see itself if it should look;
But perhaps it does not try.
It would rather see the sky
Than look into the brook and trace
The shadows of its leafy face.
Trees - Joaquin Miller
A thousand miles of mighty wood,
Where thunder-storms stride fire-shod;
A thousand plants at every rod,
A stately tree at every rood;
Ten thousand leaves to every tree,
And each a miracle to me—
Yet there be men who doubt of God!
The Tree Party - A. L. Shattuck
We had a fine party last night on the lawn;
All the trees and the flowers were invited.
It never broke up till the first peep of dawn.
And the guests went away quite delighted.
The River and the Tree - Margaret E. Sangster
"You are white and tall and swaying," sang the river to the tree,
"And your leaves are touched with silver—but you never smile on me;
For your branches murmur love songs to the sun-kissed turquoise sky,
And you seem so far above me that I always hurry by!"
Tit For Tat - Christopher Morley
I often pass a gracious tree
Whose name I can't identify,
But still I bow, in courtesy
It waves a bough, in kind reply.
The Little Fir-Trees - Evaleen Stein
Hey! little evergreens,
Sturdy and strong,
Summer and autumn-time
Hasten along.
Harvest the sunbeams, then,
Bind them in sheaves,
Range them and change them
To tufts of green leaves.
Delve in the mellow-mold,
Far, far below.
And so,
Little evergreens, grow!
Grow! Grow
Grow, little evergreens, grow!
A Tree in Blossom by Xi Murong
How do I let you meet me, At my most beautiful moment?
For this, I beseeched the Buddha for five hundred years,
I beseeched Him to let us meet in earthly life.
Buddha let me become a tree, growing on the roadside that you pass by every day.
Under the sunlight, I carefully bloomed with flowers all over,
Every bloom is my longing from a previous life.
When you come near, please listen carefully,
Those shivering leaves, Are the passion of my waiting.
And when you finally passed by unawares, those that fell off and covered the ground,
Ah, Friend, those are not flower petals, they are my withering heart.
A Visit to Qiantang Lake in Spring - Bai Juyi
Gushan temple north Jiating west
Water surface first flat cloud base low
Several places early orioles fight warm tree
Every house new swallow peck spring mud
Disordered flowers gradually almost confuse person eye
Light grass able hide horse hoof
Most love lake east go not enough
Green poplar shade in white sand causeway
Gushan Temple is to the north, Jiating pavilion west,
The water's surface now is calm, the bottom of the clouds low.
In several places, the first orioles are fighting in warm trees,
By every house new swallows peck at spring mud.
Disordered flowers have grown almost enough to confuse the eye,
Bright grass is able now to hide the hooves of horses.
I most love the east of the lake, I cannot come often enough
Within the shade of green poplars on White Sand Embankment.
Ode to the Fountainhead of Peach Blossoms - WANG Wei
On a fishing boat he followed the waters admiring spring mountain scenes,
At the ferry, both banks were lined with blossoms on peach trees.
Taking in sights of more reddened trees, he flowed with the tide losing track of how far,
Then he came to where the clear blue creek trailed off yet there was no one to be seen.
He ventured awkwardly into a cave that was deep and narrow,
Which led to an open plain as he came out of the mountain hollow.
From a distance, over woods rose stalks of smoke,
It turned out to be a settlement of thousands among flowers and bamboos up close.
The visitor introduced himself as a woodsman under Han's reign,
As the locals have not caught up with the times, there they were still dressed in Qin robes.
The locals all lived in this Wuling fountainhead,
They here established their families and habitat after migrating from the outside world.
The moon shone through pines on peaceful cottages,
The sun rose through clouds amid crowing of roosters and barking of dogs.
Surprised at hearing of an outside visitor, villagers hurriedly a crowd gathered,
Each eagerly invited him to their home and of their native land enquired.
At dawn they swept alleyways clean of fallen petals and leaves,
As dusk veiled the sky, the fishing boat and woodsman again the waters followed.
They said they secluded themselves there from wars of the world,
Then they decided to take root there to leave the worldly behind.
Who was to know that there gathered people in the valley,
There seemed only uninhabited mountains with layers of clouds from afar on the outside?
The woodsman didn't think that such a utopia is a rare sight,
Still a worldly soul he was, attached to his hometown he remained.
Regardless how separated by mountains and waters, he intended to exit the cave
And bid his family farewell before coming back to protract a stay.
He believed he wouldn't lose his way since he had been,
He never could have known that peaks and valleys have since shifted their place.
He only remembers that it was deep in the mountains,
Yet how many turns on the creek did it take to reach the woods among clouds?
In spring, where there is water, there bloom peach blossoms,
How could he tell where hides the heavenly fountainhead?