if i have made,my lady, intricate [Five V] | A poem by e.e. cummings, 1926
Constantin Brâncuși, Sleeping Muse I, 1909-10
if i have made, my lady, intricate
imperfect various things chiefly which wrong
your eyes(frailer than most deep dreams are frail)
songs less firm than your body’s whitest song
upon my mind—if i have failed to snare
the glance too shy—if through my singing slips
the very skillful strangeness of your smile
the keen primeval silence of your hair
—let the world say “his most wise music stole
nothing from death”—
you only will create
(who are so perfectly alive)my shame:
lady through whose profound and fragile lips
the sweet small clumsy feet of April came
into the ragged meadow of my soul.
e. e. cummings
also:
This (let’s remember) day died again | A poem by e.e. cummings, 1950
I Carry Your Heart With me (I Carry it in My Heart) | A poem by e.e. cummings, 1952
Spring is like a perhaps hand | A poem by e.e. cummings, 1925
Somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond | A poem by e.e. cummings, 1931
Maggie and Milly and Molly and May | A poem by e. e. cummings, 1958
