e. e. Cummings Poem

you in win

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                                        you 
                                      in win
                                   ter who sit
                                dying thinking
                             huddled behind dir
                           ty glass mind muddled
                        and cuddled by dreams(or some
                     times vacantly gazing through un
                   washed panes into a crisp todo of
                murdering uncouth faces which pass rap
             idly with their breaths.) ” people are walking deaths
          in this season ” think ” finality lives up
       on them a little more openly than usual
    hither,thither who briskly busily carry the as
 tonishing & spontaneous & difficult ugliness
    of themselves with a more incisive simplicity a
       more intensively brutal futility ” And sit
          huddling dumbly behind three or two partly tran
             sparent panes which by some loveless trick sepa
                rate one stilled unmoving mind from a hun
                   dred doomed hurrying brains(by twos
                      or threes which fiercely rapidly
                         pass with their breaths) in win
                            ter you think,die slow
                               ly ” toc-tic ” as i
                                  have seen trees(in
                                     whose black bod
                                        ies leaves
                                           hide

I met a man under the moon
i'd think “wonder if" if

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