Tuesday, September 15, 2009

if i have made,my lady,intricate

if i have made,my lady,intricate
imperfect various things chiefly which wrong 
your eyes(frailer than most deep dreams are frail) 
songs less firm than your body's whitest song 
upon my mind-if i have failed to snare 
the glance too shy-if through my singing slips 
the very skillful strangeness of your smile 
the keen primeval silence of your hair 

-let the world say "his most wise music stole 
nothing from death"- 
you only will create 
(who are so perfectly alive)my shame: 
lady through whose profound and fragile lips 
the sweet small clumsy feet of April came 

into the ragged meadow of my soul. 

~ e.e.cummings