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(30 October 1885 – 1 November 1972 / Hailey / Idaho)

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A Girl

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.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003


Read poems about / on: tree, child, wind, world, girl, children

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Comments about this poem (Alf’s Ninth Bit by Ezra Pound )

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  • Stephen W (12/6/2013 8:39:00 AM)

    No wonder he ended in the insane asylum!

    5 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • Sally Plumb Plumb (11/14/2010 5:15:00 AM)

    Really, very, very beautiful.

  • Eche Ononukwe (9/17/2009 8:16:00 AM)

    This is a poem with a tense romantic tension full of wisdom

  • Stanton Hager (8/20/2006 6:12:00 AM)

    Pound, the fierce fist-pounder on many issues, in his poems was OFTEN movingly LYRICAL-not just in his shorter poems, as this one (and many others well-chosen by Poemhunter) , but in his translations and throughout The Cantos.
    If you haven't yet read his immensely moving Li Po translation, 'The River Merchan't Wife: A Letter, ' treat yourself at this site. I bet you weep.

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