e. e. Cummings Poem

as one who(having written

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as one who(having written
late)sees his light
silenced.

              and going to his window
              a little while he
                                      watches
              the inevitable city’s

reborn enormous whisperless

Body
(and

sees
       over & between the roofs

                                                 the lifted streets
                                                 un-

                                                 speak.
                                                 -ing

                                                        and he does not
speak.)But perhaps
inhaling a possible.cigarette
he is sorry and pitiful.and
he quietly repeats to
himself
            something peculiar and small and dead

And goes to sleep miserable & tall.

                                                          —so,my
                                                          lady is
                                                                     your love

when he a little closes his eyes
thinking “tonight i did not lie in her bed.” and the Light

The
tall
extraordinary    Light    ,It

goes rapidly over the perhaps world(over
the possible Now & the lilies.over

Whoever & me?)

nouns and

                 violets !

                               ships,         &                  countries

in front of your house i
is it because there struts a distinct silver lady

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