1913 in poetry

I think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet 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.

— Joyce Kilmer (1886–1918), "Trees", first published this year

Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose.

— Gertrude Stein (1874–1946), from "Sacred Emily", written this year

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