Rabindranath Tagore

Palm Tree

Palm-tree: single-legged giant, topping other trees, peering at the firmament — It longs to pierce the black cloud-ceiling and fly away, away, if only it had wings. The tree seems to express its wish in the tossing of its head: its fronds heave and swish— It thinks, Maybe my leaves are feathers, and nothing stops me now from rising on their flutter. All day the fronds the windblown tree soar and flap and shudder as though it thinks it can fly, As though it wanders in the skies, travelling who knows where, wheeling past the stars — And then as soon as the wind dies down, the fronds subside, subside: the mind of the tree returns. To earth, recalls that earth is its mother: and then it likes once more its earthly corner.

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