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E. E.

CUMMINGS POEMS
e. e. cummings
(1894 1962)
in Just
in Just-
spring when the world is mud-
luscious the little lame baloonman
whistles far and wee
and eddyandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and its
spring
when the world is puddle-wonderful
the queer
old baloonman whistles
far and wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing
from hop-scotch and jump-rope and
its
spring
and
the
goat-footed
baloonMan whistles
far
and
wee
m! s"eet #$% etcete&'
my sweet old etcetera
aunt lucy during the recent
war could and what
is more did tell you just
what everybody was fighting
for,
my sister
isabel created hundreds
(and
hundreds) of socs not to
mention shirts fleaproof earwarmers
etcetera wristers etcetera, my
mother hoped that
i would die etcetera
bravely of course my father used
to become hoarse taling about how it was
a privilege and if only he
could meanwhile my
self etcetera lay quietly
in the deep mud et
cetera
(dreaming,
!t
cetera, of
"our smile
eyes nees and of your !tcetera)
(um'nit! i $#)e !#u
#umanity i love you
because you would rather blac the boots of
success than enquire whose soul dangles from his
watch-chain which would be embarrassing for both
parties and because you
unflinchingly applaud all
songs containing the words country home and
mother when sung at the old howard
#umanity i love you because
when youre hard up you pawn your
intelligence to buy a drin and when
youre flush pride eeps
you from the pawn shops and
because you are continually committing
nuisances but more
especially in your own house
#umanity i love you because you
are perpetually putting the secret of
life in your pants and forgetting
its there and sitting down
on it
and because you are
forever maing poems in the lap
of death #umanity
i hate you
O s"eet s*#nt'ne#us
$ sweet spontaneous
earth how often have
%
E. E. CUMMINGS POEMS
the doting
fingers of
prurient philosophies pinched
and poed
thee
has the naughty thumb
of science prodded
thy
beauty how
often have religions taen
thee upon their scraggy
nees squee&ing and
buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive
gods
but
true
to the incomparable
couch of death thy
rhythmic
lover
thou answerest
them only with
spring
+u,,'$# +i$$-s
'uffalo 'ills
(efunct
who used to
ride a watersmooth-silver
stallion
and brea onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustliethat
Jesus
he was a handsome man
and what i want to now is
how do you lie your blueeyed boy
Mister (eath
.ne/t t# #, c#u&se g##% 'me&ic' i
)ne*t to of course god america i
love you land of the pilgrims and so forth oh
say can you see by the dawns early my
country tis of centuries come and go
and are no more what of it we should worry
in every language even deafanddumb
thy sons acclaim your glorious name by gorry
by jingo by gee by gosh by gum
why tal of beauty what could be more beaut-
iful than these heroic happy dead
who rushed lie lions to the roaring slaughter
they did not stop to thin they died instead
then shall the voice of liberty be mute+,
#e spoe- .nd dran rapidly a glass of water
i sing #, O$', g$'% 'n% 0ig
i sing of $laf glad and big
whose warmest heart recoiled at war/
a conscientious object-or
his wellbelovd colonel(trig
westpointer most succinctly bred)
too erring $laf soon in hand0
but--though an host of overjoyed
noncoms(first nocing on the head
him)do through icy waters roll
that helplessness which others stroe
with brushes recently employed
anent this muddy toiletbowl,
while indred intellects evoe
allegiance per blunt instruments1
$laf(being to all intents
a corpse and wanting any rag
upon what 2od unto him gave)
responds,without getting annoyed
)3 will not iss your fucing flag,
straightway the silver bird looed grave
(departing hurriedly to shave)
but1though all inds of officers
(a yearning nations blueeyed pride)
their passive prey did ic and curse
until for wear their clarion
voices and boots were much the worse,
and egged the firstclassprivates on
his rectum wicedly to tease
by means of silfully applied
bayonets roasted hot with heat1
$laf(upon what were once nees)
does almost ceaselessly repeat
)there is some shit 3 will not eat,
our president,being of which
assertions duly notified
threw the yellowsonofabitch
into a dungeon,where he died
4hrist(of #is mercy infinite)
i pray to see0and $laf,too
preponderatingly because
unless statistics lie he was
more brave than me/more blond than you-
5
E. E. CUMMINGS POEMS
t1e C'm0&i%ge $'%ies "1# $i)e in ,u&nis1e% s#u$s
the 4ambridge ladies who live in furnished souls
are unbeautiful and have comfortable minds
(also, with the churchs protestant blessings
daughters, unscented shapeless spirited)
they believe in 4hrist and 6ongfellow,both dead,
are invariably interested in so many things-
at the present writing one still finds
delighted fingers nitting for the is it 7oles+
perhaps- 8hile permanent faces coyly bandy
scandal of Mrs- 9 and 7rofessor (
----the 4ambridge ladies do not care,above
4ambridge if sometimes in its bo* of
sy lavender and cornerless, the
moon rattles lie a fragment of angry candy
s#me"1e&e i 1')e ne)e& t&')e$$e%2g$'%$! 0e!#n%
somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any e*perience,your eyes have their silence/
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose
me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest loo will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as :pring
opens
(touching silfully,mysteriously)her first rose
or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending0
nothing which we are to perceive in this world
equals
the power of your intense fragility/whose te*ture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not now what it is about you that closes
and opens0only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands
'n!#ne $i)e% in ' *&ett! 1#" t#"n
anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didnt he danced his did
8omen and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isnt they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain
children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more
when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyones any was all to her
someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wae hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream
stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to e*plain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)
one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to iss his face)
busy fol buried them side by side
little by little and was by was
all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes-
8omen and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain
m! ,'t1e& m#)e% t1&#ug1 %##ms #, $#)e
my father moved through dooms of love
through sames of am through haves of give,
singing each morning out of each night
my father moved through depths of height
this motionless forgetful where
turned at his glance to shining here0
that if(so timid air is firm)
under his eyes would stir and squirm
newly as from unburied which
floats the first who,his april touch
drove sleeping selves to swarm their fates
woe dreamers to their ghostly roots
and should some why completely weep
my fathers fingers brought her sleep/
vainly no smallest voice might cry
for he could feel the mountains grow-
;
E. E. CUMMINGS POEMS
6ifting the valleys of the sea
my father moved through griefs of joy0
praising a forehead called the moon
singing desire into begin
joy was his song and joy so pure
a heart of star by him could steer
and pure so now and now so yes
the wrists of twilight would rejoice
een as midsummers een beyond
conceiving mind of sun will stand,
so strictly(over utmost him
so hugely) stood my fathers dream
his flesh was flesh his blood was blood/
no hungry man but wished him food0
no cripple wouldnt creep one mile
uphill to only see him smile-
:corning the 7omp of must and shall
my father moved through dooms of feel0
his anger was as right as rain
his pity was as green as grain
septembering arms of year e*tend
yes humbly wealth to foe and friend
than he to foolish and to wise
offered immeasurable is
proudly and(by octobering flame
beconed)as earth will downward climb,
so naed for immortal wor
his shoulders marched against the dar
his sorrow was as true as bread/
no liar looed him in the head0
if every friend became his foe
hed laugh and build a world with snow-
My father moved through theys of we,
singing each new leaf out of each tree
(and every child was sure that spring
danced when she heard my father sing)
then let men ill which cannot share,
let blood and flesh be mud and mire,
scheming imagine,passion willed,
freedom a drug thats bought and sold
giving to steal and cruel ind,
a heart to fear,to doubt a mind,
to differ a disease of same,
conform the pinnacle of am
though dull were all we taste as bright,
bitter all utterly things sweet,
maggoty minus and dumb death
all we inherit,all bequeath
and nothing quite so least as truth
1i say though hate were why men breathe1
because my <ather lived his soul
love is the whole and more than all
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