Ezra Pound was born in Idaho in 1885. Ezra’s most significant contribution to literature was his use of imagism, which stresses clarity, precision, and economy of language. He developed this technique after he traveled abroad to Spain, Italy, and London in 1908. In 1924, Ezra and his wife moved to Italy where he became involved in Fascists politics. When he returned to the United States in 1945 he was arrested for treason, but acquitted shortly after. He then was declared mentally ill and hospitalized until 1958 when a group of writers successfully fought for his release. He then returned to Venice, Italy where he died in 1972.
Even though A Girl by Ezra Pound is very short and simple, this is not the only reason I chose it. Anyone who has ever been in love can read far deeper into these nine lines. Not trying to be a sappy love sick puppy, but Ezra pinpoints this certain emotion among many that love makes its victims experience; the feeling of two people becoming one. As Ezra expresses the way the tree slowly enters the lovers body, so does love. At first symptoms of love include the innocent crush, which turns into the interest, which turns into the like, which turns into the caring about each other, which turns into the appreciation for each other, which turns into the missing/needing each other, and finally into LOVE. The victim knows when they reach this point in their relationship. You only feel complete when your with this person and you are at your most care free, happy go lucky self. You become so comfortable with each other, you hold nothing back because you feel protected and safe. Love can be the most amazing thing in the world, and what is even better about the whole idea is that no one else but you and the person you love understand what you two have. The people looking in upon your relationship and your infatuation judge harshly because they don’t understand your love for each other. This is one of the most romantic parts of the love, the secret you two keep that isolates you from the rest of the world, allowing you to create a even better world made up of you and the one you love.
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.