in spite of everything
which breathes and moves,since Doom
(with white longest hands
neatening each crease)
will smooth entirely our minds
-before leaving my room
i turn,and(stooping
through the morning)kiss
this pillow,dear
where our heads lived and were.
(E. E. Cummings)
More Poetry from E. E. Cummings:
- Puella Mea (E. E. Cummings Poems)
- The Eagle (E. E. Cummings Poems)
- Young Woman of Cambridge, (E. E. Cummings Poems)
- listen (E. E. Cummings Poems)
- voices to voices,lip to lip (E. E. Cummings Poems)
- Ballad of the Scholar's Lament (E. E. Cummings Poems)