A Girl

The tree has entered my hands,
The sap has ascended my arms,
The tree has grown in my breast -
Downward,
The branches grow out of me, like arms.

Tree you are,
Moss you are,
You are violets with wind above them.
A child - so high - you are,
And all this is folly to the world.

by Ezra Pound

Comments (13)

I do not have to tell everything to my child, talking at that time the parent and child are independent and their own back speaks. I ought to speak to my back.
Lovely lines that are loaded with life and creativity
The tree has entered my hands. Beautiful words.
Can you please analyse the poem for me
Pound stuff is to poetry what a Big Mac left on a bench is to sculpture. Useless, pretentious garbage taht idiots think is deep
See More