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6.1
/10
(24
votes)
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All in green went my love riding
on a great horse of gold
into the silver dawn.
Four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
the merry deer ran before.
Fleeter be they than dappled dreams
the swift red deer
the red rare deer.
Four red roebuck at a white water
the cruel bugle sang before.
Horn at hip went my love riding
riding the echo down
into the silver dawn.
Four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
the level meadows ran before.
Softer be they than slippered sleep
the lean lithe deer
the fleet flown deer.
Four fleet does at a gold valley
the famished arrow sang before.
Bow at belt went my love riding
riding the mountain down
into the silver dawn.
Four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
the sheer peaks ran before.
Paler be they than daunting death
the sleek slim deer
the tall tense deer.
Four tall stags at the green mountain
the lucky hunter sang before.
All in green went my love riding
on a great horse of gold
into the silver dawn.
Four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
my heart fell dead before.
ee cummings
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Read poems about / on: silver, horse, green, red, water, sleep, death, love, smile, running, dream
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Comments about this poem (all in green
by
ee cummings
) |
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comments about this poem (all in green by
ee cummings
)
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A R Taylor
(4/29/2008 4:57:00 PM) |
This poem evokes a tapestry in The Cloisters picturing the images of this poem - real or in my imagination of many years ago. Incredible! What a fantastic poet! Read it outloud to my love. Sung beautifully in Joan Baez's album 'Baptism'.
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Dimitri Boukas
(3/16/2008 11:18:00 PM) |
Im SUPER GAY, and i only like poems about takin it up the ass, so i hate this poem. I live in California, and my phone number is (626) 336 9336
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Dimitri Boukas
(3/16/2008 11:14:00 PM) |
I HATE THIS POEM. this peoem really disappoints me. The way this author writes make me so mad.
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Maurice Babb
(10/28/2007 1:52:00 PM) |
The curious images of the hunt build up the tension as I wonder how they will be resolved...and then the moment of truth! That final line is exactly the initial thrill of love.
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ee cummings
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