o sweet spontaneous
earth how often have
the
doting
fingers of
prurient philosophers pinched
and
poked
thee
, has the naughty thumb
of science prodded
thy
beauty . how
often have religions taken
thee upon their scraggy knees
squeezing 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)
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Comments
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I love the way he says death and spring are "incomparable," but are "rhythmic lovers" nevertheless.
This is my favorite nature poem- no matter how many people try to analyze it, it's still just spring!
.:Marie:. -
Philosophy and science and religion all lay their meanings on what just is.
That's my take on it, anyhow. -
im so glad y'all finally put up e e cummings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! this is from my favorite collection of his.....and this is one of his most beautiful poems, i believe.
props for putting him here!
stef
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