i like
to think that on
the flower you gave me when we
loved
 
          the far-
departed mouth sweetly-saluted
lingers.
            if one marvel
 
seeing the hunger of my
lips for a dead thing,
i shall instruct
him silently with becoming
 
steps to seek
your face     and i
entreat,by certain foolish perfect
hours
 
         dead too,
if that he come receive
him as your lover sumptuously
being
 
kind
because i trust him to
your grace,and for
in his own land
 
he is called death.

  • 0
  • 0
  •  
  •  
Login to comment...
Email

Other works by E. E. Cummings...

Some poets who follow E. E. Cummings...

Lila Jane R. L. McCallum saaleha i bamjee J Ann Crowder Chactas Marçal Corominas