Dear PoP – How about a perfect spring poem to take us out for the weekend. . .

cherry blossom circuit
Photo From PoPville flickr user K’s Clicks

O sweet spontaneous
by: e.e. cummings (1894-1962)

sweet spontaneous
earth how often have

fingers of
prurient philosophers pinched

, has the naughty thumb
of science prodded

beauty, how
often have religions taken
thee upon their scraggy knees
squeezing and

buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive

to the incomparable
couch of death thy

thou answerest

them only with


3 Comment

  • Nice. It is, after all, National Poetry Month.

  • I know a little maiden,

    She is very fair and sweet,

    As she trips among the grasses

    That kiss her dainty feet;

    Her arms are full of flowers,

    The snow-drops, pure and white,
Timid blue-eyed violets,
And daffodillies bright.

    She loves dear Mother Nature,
And wanders by her side;

    She beckons to the birdlings

    That flock from far and wide.

    She wakes the baby brooklets,

    Soft breezes hear her call;

    She tells the little children
The sweetest tales of all.

    Her brow is sometimes clouded,

    And she sighs with gentle grace,
Till the sunbeams, daring lovers,

    Kiss the teardrops from her face.
Well we know this dainty maiden,

    For April is her name;

    And we welcome her with gladness,
As the springtime comes again.

    A Child of Spring, 1894, by Ellen Robena Field.

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