"Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal." T.S. Eliot
Today, at the bequest of T.S. Eliot, I am stealing one of my favorite poems (of a different author) to share with you.
by e.e. cummings
i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake
and now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
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