Yours Is The Music For No Instrument
E. E. Cummings
yours is the music for no instrument
yours the preposterous colour unbeheld
—mine the unbought contemptuous intent
till this our felsh merely shall be excelled
by speaking flower
(if I have made songs
it does not greatly matter to the sun,
nor will rain care
cautiously who prolongs
unserious twilight)Shadows have begun
the hair’s worm huge,ecstatic,rathe….
yours are the poems i do not write.
In this at least we have got a bulge on death,
silence,and the keenly musical light
of sudden nothing….la bocca mia “he
kissed wholly trembling”
or so thought the lady.
Next 10 Poems
- Emily Dickinson : A Bee His Burnished Carriage
- Emily Dickinson : A Bird Came Down
- Emily Dickinson : A Bird Came Down The Walk
- Emily Dickinson : A Burdock-clawed My Gown
- Emily Dickinson : A Cap Of Lead Across The Sky
- Emily Dickinson : A Charm Invests A Face
- Emily Dickinson : A Chilly Peace Infests The Grass
- Emily Dickinson : A Clock Stopped
- Emily Dickinson : A Clock Stopped -- Not The Mantel's
- Emily Dickinson : A Cloud Withdrew From The Sky
Previous 10 Poems
- E. E. Cummings : Your Little Voice
- E. E. Cummings : You Asked Me To Come:it Was Raining A Little
- E. E. Cummings : Writhe And
- E. E. Cummings : Will Suddenly Trees Leap From Winter And Will
- E. E. Cummings : Why Did You Go
- E. E. Cummings : Who's Most Afraid Of Death?thou
- E. E. Cummings : Who Knows If The Moon's
- E. E. Cummings : Who
- E. E. Cummings : Where's Madge Then
- E. E. Cummings : Whereas By Dark Really Released,the Modern
