Wednesday, December 26, 2007

A Winter Poem

if in beginning twilight of winter will stand

(over a snowstopped silent world) one
spirit serenely truly himself: and

alone only as greatness is alone--

one (above nevermoving all nowhere)
goldenly whole, prodigiously alive
most mercifully glorying keen star

whom she-and-he-like ifs of am perceive

(but believe scarcely may) certainly while
mute each inch of their murdered planet grows
more and enormously more less: until
her-and-his nonexistence vanishes

with also earth's
---"dying" the ghost of you
whispers "is very pleasant" my ghost to


e.e. cummings

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