I never saw a poem as lovely as a tree
Says Joyce in a poem for me
But I cannot help but note
Others not in the same boat
Say they in some random rants
Trees are the product of chance
Products of accident and time
Springing from primordial slime
But I sit under the tree
And wonder at that I see
Its dancing leaves seem to sing
Praises to God it does bring.
Silly fools who do not believe
In darkest doubts they deceive
In all the wonders of creation
The tree is but a singular sensation
True, a wonderous one so strong
But, only one in the mighty throng
Created by our own Designer
The plan could not be finer
The tree alone ought to be enough
For you to believe the right stuff
But everywhere else do I look and see
The God who made the tree for me
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