e. e. cummings on spring

    Spring will always keep its grip on its wonderful secret. Hear e. e. cummings:

O sweet spontaneous
earth how often have
the
doting

         fingers of
prurient philosophers pinched
and
poked

thee
, has the naughty thumb
of science prodded
thy

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

buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive
gods
       (But
true

to the incomparable
couch of death thy
rhythmic
lover

      thou answerest

them only with

                       spring)

But there will not always be springs. The human race, bent on breeding, breeding, breeding, is bound to fry the planet. For a brief biography of e. e. cummings, click here.