Poem by Edward Estlin Cummings

* * *

the bigness of cannon
is skilful,
 
but i have seen
death’s clever enormous voice
which hides in a fragility
of poppies. . . .
 
i say that sometimes
on these long talkative animals
are laid fists of huger silence.
 
I have seen all the silence
filled with vivid noiseless boys
 
at Roupy
i have seen
between barrages,
 
the night utter ripe unspeaking girls.

1. come nothing to my comparable soul
2. when my sensational moments are no more
3. I have seen her stealthily frail
4. perhaps it is to feel strike
5. a fragrant sag of fruit distinctly grouped

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