E. E. Cummings

The Moon Is Hiding In

the moon is hiding in
her hair.
The
lily
of heaven
full of all dreams,
draws down.
 
cover her briefness in singing
close her with the intricate faint birds
by daisies and twilights
Deepen her,
 
Recite
upon her
flesh
the rain’s
 
pearls singly-whispering.
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