The tree has entered my hands, <br />The sap has ascended my arms, <br />The tree has grown in my breast - <br />Downward, <br />The branches grow out of me, like arms. <br /> <br />Tree you are, <br />Moss you are, <br />You are violets with wind above them. <br />A child - so high - you are, <br />And all this is folly to the world.<br /><br />Ezra Pound<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-girl/
