Tuesday, 22 November 2016

105

Christian Schloe


105

cruelly, love
walk the autumn long;
the last flower in whose hair,
thy lips are cold with songs

for which is
first to wither, to pass?
shallowness of sunlight
falls and, cruelly,
across the grass
Comes the
moon

love, walk the
autumn
love, for the last
flower in the hair withers;
thy hair is acold with
dreams,
love thou art frail

- walk the longness of autumn
smile dustily to the people,
for winter
who crookedly care.

E.E. Cummings

"Thy lips are cold with songs." "Love thou art frail." I couldn't tell you what this poem means, but the phrases cling to my mind. "The last flower in the hair withers." I read it and think maybe Cummings has arranged the whole thing backwards, and what would the words look like in their proper order? But I want it the way it is. The changing of the seasons is personal in Cummings poetry, more than just outward and physical, it is an expression of inner loss and transition. And that phrase "thy hair is acold with dreams" is wonderful, it is one of those things poets do - show us beautiful mysteries. He leaves us with wonder.

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