What is the poem, Is the Pathetic Fallacy True? by Elizabeth Brewster about? I need a help right now!<br/>Here's the poem:<br/><br/>When I was a child<br/>the stones were living.<br/>Hot under my hand, they felt like flesh,<br/>and sands slipped through my fingers<br/>with a caress.<br/><br/>Yes, everything was alive;<br/><br/>the clumsy, roaring wind<br/>stepped on the flounced pink dress<br/>of the apple-tree,<br/>tearing it to shreds<br/><br/>the puffed cheeks of clouds<br/><br/>the brook with its pebbled tongue<br/>and the hoarse old grave old sea<br/>its gravelly song<br/><br/>and earth itself<br/>a brown warm girl<br/>turning and tanning in the sun.<br/><br/>All false, all wrong,<br/>somebody told me:<br/>Winds are not lovers,<br/>clumsy or gentle.<br/>There's no blood<br/>in stones,<br/>no tears in water.<br/><br/>Nevertheless<br/><br/>sometimes lately when I touch a chair or table<br/>I think I feel atoms stir<br/>under my fingers<br/><br/>and at night in dreams I hear<br/>the small remote voices of grains of dust<br/>or the inaudible whispers of stars<br/><br/>as they will speak to me some time<br/>when I lie with the living grass above me<br/>and the wind my old lover<br/>singing me to sleep<br/><br/>and to wake