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 (9)

Lovely poem of a childhood colorful moment... perfect ten for this.
There is a sweetness to this that refreshes a jaded taste. May not, however, much resemble today's siblings out at play mores the pity. I like her end-rhyming ability... smooth as silk and very natural..
Such a heartwarming poem by Jane Taylor👍👍👍
Thing's were kind of simple back then.. James McLain
A simple and lovely poem!
See More