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Famous Short Tree Poems

Famous Short Tree Poems. Short Tree Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Tree short poems

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Tree | Short Famous Poems and Poets

by Kobayashi Issa

Not very anxious

 Not very anxious
to bloom,
my plum tree.

by Matsuo Basho

The oak tree

 The oak tree:
not interested
 in cherry blossoms.

by Mother Goose

A Star

Higher than a house, higher than a tree.
Oh! whatever can that be?

by Emily Dickinson

Not at Home to Callers

 Not at Home to Callers
Says the Naked Tree --
Bonnet due in April --
Wishing you Good Day --

by Emily Dickinson

His Bill an Auger is

 His Bill an Auger is
His Head, a Cap and Frill
He laboreth at every Tree
A Worm, His utmost Goal.

by Ogden Nash

Kiplings Vermont

 The summer like a rajah dies,
And every widowed tree
Kindles for Congregationalist eyes
An alien suttee.

by Anne Bradstreet


 HERE a pretty baby lies 
Sung asleep with lullabies: 
Pray be silent and not stir 
Th' easy earth that covers her.

by Emily Dickinson

Lay this Laurel on the One

 Lay this Laurel on the One
Too intrinsic for Renown --
Laurel -- veil your deathless tree --
Him you chasten, that is He!

by Ogden Nash

Song of the Open Road

 I think that I shall never see
A billboard lovely as a tree
Indeed, unless the billboards fall
I'll never see a tree at all.

by Emily Dickinson

She slept beneath a tree

 She slept beneath a tree --
Remembered but by me.
I touched her Cradle mute -- She recognized the foot -- Put on her carmine suit And see!

by Mother Goose

Oh, Dear!

Dear, dear! what can the matter be?
Two old women got up in an apple-tree;
One came down, and the other stayed till Saturday.

by Friedrich von Schiller

The Learned Workman

 Ne'er does he taste the fruit of the tree that he raised with such trouble;
Nothing but taste e'er enjoys that which by learning is reared.

by Robert Frost

Dust of Snow

 The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.

by Edward Lear

Q was a Quince that hung


was a Quince that hung
Upon a garden tree; Papa he brought it with him home,
And ate it with his tea.

by Edward Lear

O was an orange


was an orange
So yellow and round:
When it fell off the tree,
It fell down to the ground.


Down to the ground!

by William Butler Yeats

A Meditation In Time Of War

 For one throb of the artery,
While on that old grey stone I Sat
Under the old wind-broken tree,
I knew that One is animate,
Mankind inanimate phantasy.

by Edward Lear

There Was an Old Man in a Tree

 There was an Old Man in a tree,
Who was horribly bored by a bee.
When they said "Does it buzz?" He replied "Yes, it does! It's a regular brute of a bee!"

by Carl Sandburg


 A SWIRL in the air where your head was once, here.
You walked under this tree, spoke to a moon for me I might almost stand here and believe you alive.

by Edward Lear

There was a young lady of Firle

There was a young lady of Firle,
Whose hair was addicted to curl;
It curled up a tree, and all over the sea,
That expansive young lady of Firle.

by Edward Lear

N was a Nut that grew


was a Nut that grew
High up upon a tree; Papa, who could not reach it, said,
"That's much too high for me!"

by Edward Lear

There was an Old Man of Dundee

There was an Old Man of Dundee,
Who frequented the top of a tree;
When disturbed by the Crows, he abruptly arose,
And exclaimed, "I'll return to Dundee!"

by J R R Tolkien

One White Tree

 Tall ships and tall kings
Three times three.
What brought they from the foundered land Over the flowing sea? Seven stars and seven stones And one white tree.

by William Butler Yeats

To A Squirrel At Kyle-Na-No

 Come play with me;
Why should you run
Through the shaking tree
As though I'd a gun
To strike you dead?
When all I would do
Is to scratch your head
And let you go.

by Edward Lear

There was a Young Lady of Lucca

There was a Young Lady of Lucca,
Whose lovers completely forsook her;
She ran up a tree, and said "Fiddle-de-dee!"
Which embarrassed the people of Lucca.

by Mother Goose

The First Of May

The fair maid who, the first of May,
Goes to the fields at break of day,
And washes in dew from the hawthorn-tree,
Will ever after handsome be.