I remember this poem seeming really crazy when I first read it. At sixteen this was the closest to mysticism that I was getting, a line like now the eyes of my eyes are opened could be really powerful and influential not because it was original or earth-shattering but just because my life until then was utterly without notions like leaping greenly spirits of trees. I already feel a little silly about it now; at first I was thinking it's because it's too earnest or reverent for how I feel and think and behave these days ... but just writing that down I realized, no, that's exactly what I want to be, earnest and reverent, and so I guess I feel silly just because it makes me shy to see the childish desires of my heart expresed by someone else, and to admit they are mine.