A poem for Sunday

Today, one of my absolute favourite poems in the English language, even if  I generally don’t care that much for E. E. Cummings’ poetry. But this one, for an unaccountable reason, stands out. It probably is due to the sheer magic of the verse “Into the street of the sky night walks scattering poems“. Perfection.

23 23(Sonnet IX from Tulips, 1922)

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