The Tree Poem by Karle Wilson Baker

The Tree

Rating: 3.6


My life is a tree,
Yoke-fellow of the earth;
Pledged,
By roots too deep for remembrance,
To stand hard against the storm,
To fill by Place.
(But high in the branches of my green tree there is a wild
bird singing:
Wind-free are the wings of my bird: she hath built no
mortal nest.)

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Ratnakar Mandlik 03 November 2018

The flight of imagination is simply awesome.

1 0 Reply
Samin 24 September 2020

Brilliant

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Mountain Man 24 September 2020

a well written poem here...

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M Asim Nehal 24 September 2020

The metaphor and the poem is perfect, I hear a melancholy song of the bird trying to take the long flight, not return again.

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paul amrod 24 September 2020

The imaginative spiritual venture fully marvelously described.

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Khairul Ahsan 24 September 2020

The words within the parenthesis touched me more than the words outside!

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Mahtab Bangalee 24 September 2020

like the tree the life is; the roots of it in so deep, the activity of it so strong even against stormy time; it's a shelter for all even for foreigners like the flying birds

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L Milton Hankins 24 September 2020

Karle, you have weaved a beautiful image for us. Thanks for sharing!

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Dr Antony Theodore 24 September 2020

By roots too deep for remembrance, To stand hard against the storm, To fill by Place. very fine poem. tony

0 0 Reply
Savita Tyagi 24 September 2020

Beautiful poem. The last lines just puts the words on the list of memorables.

0 0 Reply
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