E. E. Cummings

I Like

i like to think that on the flower you gave me when we loved the far- departed mouth sweetly-saluted lingers. if one marvel seeing the hunger of my lips for a dead thing, i shall instruct him silently with becoming steps to seek your face     and i entreat,by certain foolish perfect hours dead too, if that he come receive him as your lover sumptuously being kind because i trust him to your grace,and for in his own land he is called death.

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