By E.E.
Cummings
A pretty a day
(and every fades)
is here and away
(but born are maids
to flower an hour
in all, all)
(and every fades)
is here and away
(but born are maids
to flower an hour
in all, all)
o yes to flower
until so blithe
a doer a wooer
some limber and lithe
some very fine mower
a tall; tall
some jerry so very
(and nellie and fan)
some handsomest harry
(and sally and nan
they tremble and cower
so pale, pale)
for betty was born
to never say nay
but lucy could learn
and lily could pray
and fewer were shyer
than doll, doll
Poetry is always the
best thing. If a couple years ago, I despised it, now, I like it more than I
could ever imagine. But what makes poetry dear to me the most, reminding me of English 3U and
4U classes with Mr. Saxe and Mr Wise.
Mr Saxe's class, he eats
students for breakfast !! Just kidding. Well, I miss playing and sleeping in
his class and then got scolded. Mr Wise, just like his last name, wise. A scary
looking old hag, but witty and sincere. And thanks to him, I've got 92 marks
for final exam. I was surprised myself.
o yes to flower :)
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