Trees

Trees are the kindest things I know,

They do no harm, they simply grow

And spread a shade for sleepy cows,

And gather birds among the boughs.

They give us fruit in leaves above,

And wood to make our houses of,

And leaves to burn on Halloween,

And in the spring new buds of green.

They are the first when day’s begun

To touch the beams of morning sun,

They are the last to hold the light

When evening changes into night,

And when a moon floats on the sky,

They hum a drowsy lullaby

Of sleepy children long ago…

Trees are the kindest things I know.

By,

Harry Behn, from The Little Hill