Trees are the kindest things I know, they do not harm, and they
simply grow.
And spread the shade for sleepy cows, and gather birds among
their boughs.
They give us fruit and leaves above, and wood to make our houses
of.
And leaves to burn, for an autumn scene, and in the spring new
buds of green.
They are the first when the days begun to touch the beams of
morning sun.
They are the last to hold the light when evening changes
into night.
And when the moon floats on the sky they hum a drowsy lullaby.
Of sleeping children long ago… Trees of the kindest things I
know.
-Unknown
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