Poem by Edward Estlin Cummings

* * *

Spring is like a perhaps hand
(which comes carefully
out of Nowhere)arranging
a window,into which people look(while
people stare
arranging and changing placing
carefully there a strange
thing and a known thing here)and

changing everything carefully

spring is like a perhaps
Hand in a window
(carefully to
and fro moving New and
Old things,while
people stare carefully
moving a perhaps
fraction of flower here placing
an inch of air there)and

without breaking anything.

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

Print

1721 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version