i like
to think that on
the flower you gave me when we
loved
the far-
departed mouth sweetly-saluted
lingers.
if one marvel
seeing the hunger of my
lips for a dead thing,
i shall instruct
him silently with becoming
steps to seek
your face and i
entreat,by certain foolish perfect
hours
dead too,
if that he come receive
him as your lover sumptuously
being
kind
because i trust him to
your grace,and for
in his own land
he is called death.
I Like
E. E. Cummings
(1)
Poem topics: death, flower, perfect, trust, receive, face, mouth, foolish, hunger, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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