Poem Hunter
The Tree
Karle Wilson Baker (1878 - 1960 / United States)

The Tree

My life is a tree,
Yoke-fellow of the earth;
By roots too deep for remembrance,
To stand hard against the storm,
To fill by Place.
(But high in the branches of my green tree there is a wild
bird singing:
Wind-free are the wings of my bird: she hath built no
mortal nest.)

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Comments (1)

The flight of imagination is simply awesome.