A Girl

By Ezra Pound

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.

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

Published by Featured Writer

Featured writers are any writers who have work published or shared by Drunken Pen Writing but are not an official writer for Drunken Pen Writing. This includes guests posts, classic literary authors who have work through the public domain, and all writers who have had their writing submissions accepted by Drunken Pen Writing for publication.

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2 Comments

  1. Pingback: I Am Not Yours, By Sara Teasdale – Drunken Pen Writing
  2. Pingback: Summer Moods, By John Clare – Drunken Pen Writing

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