pure and simply amazing!
SOMEWHERE I HAVE NEVER TRAVELLED
E.E. CUMMINGS
somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as spring opens
(touching skilfully, mysteriously)her first rose
or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the hearts of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the colour of it's countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper then all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
AHH how beautiful is that
here is another one
SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY
GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON
She walks in such beaty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies.
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet her aspect and her eyes,
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress
Or softly lightens o'er her face,
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek and o'er that brow
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow.
But tell of days in goodness spent,-
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.
WOW
E.E. CUMMINGS
somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as spring opens
(touching skilfully, mysteriously)her first rose
or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the hearts of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the colour of it's countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper then all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
AHH how beautiful is that
here is another one
SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY
GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON
She walks in such beaty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies.
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet her aspect and her eyes,
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress
Or softly lightens o'er her face,
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek and o'er that brow
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow.
But tell of days in goodness spent,-
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.
WOW