if i have made intricate things

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 come

.

into the ragged meadow of my soul.

- e.e. cummings -

.

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