it may not always be so
that if your lips, which i have loved, should touch
another’s, and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart, as mine in time not far away;
if on another’s face your sweet hair lay
in such a silence as i know, or such
great writhing words as, uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;
if this should be, i say if this should be-
you of my heart, send me a little word;
that i may go unto him, and take his hands,
saying, Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face, and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands.
– a poem by the late e.e. cummings
A sad celebration of love. You know it’s love when he sacrifices his happiness just to protect hers.
September 24th, 2005 at 11:36 pm
My dearest snookie,
It’s interesting you should show me this cuz
check this
link out
I posted this on 11//05
Truly,
Misguided
September 25th, 2005 at 12:52 am
OMG :O !! thats so cooool..
anyhow.. this is one of my favorite poems of his..
same with u??