to stand(alone)in some autumnal afternoon:
breathing a fatal
stillness;while
enormous this how
patient creature(who’s
never by never robbed of
day)puts always on by always
dream,is to
taste
not(beyond
death and
life)imaginable mysteries e.e.cummings
l(a
le
af
fa
ll
s)
one
l
iness
e.e.cummings
now air is air and thing is thing:no bliss
of heavenly earth beguiles our spirits,whose
miraculously disenchanted eyes
live the magnificent honesty of space.
Mountains are mountains now;skies now are skies—
and such a sharpening freedom lifts our blood
as if whole supreme this complete doubtless
universe we’d(and we alone)made
—yes;or as if our souls,awakened from
summer’s green trance,would not adventure soon
a deeper magic:that white sleep wherein
all human curiosity we’ll spend
(gladly,as lovers must)immortal and
the courage to receive time’s mightiest dream
e.e. cummings
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