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Here is a poem on Trees (with profound apologies to Joyce Kilmer)

Trees By Joyce Kilmer, 1886-1918 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.

Trees By Ross Bettinger I think that I shall never see An algorithm lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry nodes contain Data purified into some domain; A tree that classifies all day And shuffles data every which way; A tree that can with aplomb decide 'Tween ordinal and interval data in stride; Within whose branches doth maintain Increasing order in the main; Trees are programmed by fools like me But only data can build a tree.