e e cummings
what if a much of a which of a wind
gives the truth to summer's lie;
bloodies with dizzying leaves the
sun
and yanks immortal stars awry?
Blow king to beggar and queen to
seam
(blow friend to fiend: blow space
to time)
--when skies are hanged and oceans
drowned,
the single secret will still be
man
what if a keen of a lean wind flays
screaming hills with sleet and
snow:
strangles valleys by ropes of thing
and stifles forests in white ago?
Blow hope to terror; blow seeing
to blind
(blow pity to envy and soul to
mind)
--whose hearts are mountains, roots
are trees,
it's they shall cry hello to the
spring
what if a dawn of a doom of a dream
bites this universe in two,
peels forever out of his grave
and sprinkles nowhere with me and
you?
Blow soon to never and never to
twice
(blow life to isn't: blow death
to was)
--all nothing's only our hugest
home;
the most who die, the more we live.