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 -- @3so@1 high -- you are, And all this is folly to the world. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OPEN MY EYES by ALICE E. BAILEY UNDER THE WHARF by IDA COLE BARTLATT THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON INSCRIPTION ON A GOBLET by ROBERT BURNS A CATCH by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON LOVE POEM OF THE ROMAN DAYS: 7. ISABELLA'S TREE by CYRUS CURTIS CASSELLS |