A Girl

By Ezra Pound

The tree has entered my hands, 
The sap has ascended my arms, 
The tree has grown in my breast- 
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.

If you liked this you should check out these other great classics!

About My Very Tortured Friend, Peter, By Charles Bukowski

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep, By Mary Frye

Still I Rise, By Maya Angelou


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.