No, this isn’t a quote from a blind man, & I haven’t lost the remote for the TV again; this is a poem by Joyce Kilmer who sadly expired in 1918 at the age of only 32 years young. Profound words like these can penetrate the soul.
I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the sweet earth’s 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