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.
| Best Poems | Short Poems
Email Poem |
More Poems by Ezra Pound
Comments, Analysis, and Meaning on A Girl
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem A Girl here.
Commenting turned off, sorry.