Xli Poems/Sonnet 1

by Edward Estlin Cummings

SONNETS I

when learned darkness from our searched world

wrestest the rare unwisdom of thy eyes,if thy two hands flowers of silence curled

upon a thought, to rapture should surprisemy soul slowly which on thy beauty dreamest—proud through the cold perfect night whisperless

to mark, how that asleep whitely thou seemest

(whose lips the whole of life almost do guess)

if god should send the morning; and beforemy doubting window leaves softly to stir,of thoughtful trees whom night hath pondered o'er—and frailties of dimension to occur

about usabout usand birds known, scarcely to sing

(heart, shalt thou bear the marvel of this thing?)