...sunlight is
(life and day are)only loaned:whereas
night is given(night and death and the rain

are given;and given is how beautifully snow)

E.E. Cummings

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...here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart).

E.E. Cummings

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suppose
Life is an old man carrying flowers on his head.

E.E. Cummings

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Nobody loses all the time.

E.E. Cummings

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the poems to come are for you and for me and are not for mostpeople... you and i are human beings; mostpeople are snobs.

E.E. Cummings

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(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

E.E. Cummings

Mots clés greatly-beyond somewhere-i-have-never-traveled

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maybe god

is a child
‘s hand)very carefully
bring
-ing
to you and to
me(and quite with
out crushing)the

papery weightless diminutive

world
with a hole in
it out
of which demons with wings would be streaming if
something had(maybe they couldn’t
agree)not happened(and floating-
ly int

o

E.E. Cummings

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I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
Alive
with closed eyes
to dash against darkness

E.E. Cummings

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You are my sun,
my moon, and
all my stars.

E.E. Cummings

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sweet spring is your
time is my time is our
time for springtime is lovetime
and viva sweet love

(all the merry little birds are
flying in the floating in the
very spirits singing in
are winging in the blossoming)

lovers go and lovers come
awandering awondering
but any two are perfectly
alone there's nobody else alive

(such a sky and such a sun
i never knew and neither did you
and everybody never breathed
quite so many kinds of yes)

not a tree can count his leaves
each herself by opening
but shining who by thousands mean
only one amazing thing

(secretly adoring shyly
tiny winging darting floating
merry in the blossoming
always joyful selves are singing)

sweet spring is your
time is my time is our
time for springtime is lovetime
and viva sweet love

E.E. Cummings

Mots clés poetry spring

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