e. e. Cummings Poem

skies may be blue;yes

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skies may be blue;yes
(when gone are hail and sleet and snow)
but bluer-than my darling’s eyes,
spring skies are no

hearts may be true;yes
(by night or day in joy or woe)
but truer than your lover’s is,
hearts do not grow

nows may be new;yes
(as new as april’s first hello)
but new as this our thousandth kiss,
no now is so

she,straddling my lap,
we being not each other:without love

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