e. e. Cummings Poem

Impressions VII

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i was considering how
within night’s loose
sack a star’s
nibbling in-

fin
-i-
tes-
i
-mal-
ly devours

darkness the
hungry star
which
will e

-ven
tu-
al
-ly jiggle
the bait of
dawn and be jerked

into

eternity.      when over my head a
shooting
star
Bur s

           (t
               into a stale shriek
like an alarm-clock)

Impressions IX
Impressions III

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