| |
one's not half two. It's two are halves of one:
which halves reintegrating,shall occur
no death and any quantity;but than
all numerable mosts the actual more
minds ignorant of stern miraculous
this every truth-beware of heartless them
(given the scalpel,they dissect a kiss;
or,sold the reason,they undream a dream)
one is the song which fiends and angels sing:
all murdering lies by mortals told make two.
Let liars wilt,repaying life they're loaned;
we(by a gift called dying born)must grow
deep in dark least ourselves remembering
love only rides his year.
All lose,whole find
ee cummings
Read poems about / on: kiss, truth, song, dream, dark, death, life, murder, remember, angel, lost
|
|
User Rating: |
|
7.6
/10
(7 votes) |
|
|
|
E-mail this poem to e friend