all things.
thy hair mostly the hours love:
a smoothness which
sings, saying
(though love be a day)
do not fear, we will go amaying.
thy whitest feet crisply are straying
Always
thy moist eyes are at kisses playing
whose strangeness much
says; singing
(though love be a day)
for which girl art thou flowers bringing?
To be thy lips is a sweet thing
and small.
Death, Thee i call rich beyond wishing
if this though catch,
else missing.
(though love be a day
and life be nothing, it shall not stop kissing).
--e. e. cummings
7 comments:
Great poem. Thank for participating.
I love e.e.
When you're all finished and had some sleep, stop by my blog to enter a special book giveaway for read-a-thon participants.
http://www.readywhenyouarecb.blogspot.com
Keep reading.
I picked cummings too! And this is another great one. Could that man write or what?!
If you're still up, hope your reading is great! :D
Great poem :) I couldn't love e. e. cummings more.
e.e. cummings is da bomb. I must remember to read more of his stuff.
If you're still up: We're in the home stretch!! *happy dance*
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