E. E. Cummings, No. 6 [all nearness pauses, while a star can grow]

all nearness pauses, while a star can grow

all distance breathes a final dream of bells; perfectly outlined against afterglow are all amazing and the peaceful hills

(not where not here but neither’s blue most both)

and history immeasurably is wealthier by a single sweet day’s death: as not imagined secrecies comprise

goldenly huge whole the upfloating moon.

Times a strange fellow; more he gives than takes (and he takes all)nor any marvel finds quite disappearance but some keener makes losing, gaining —love! if a world ends

more than all worlds begin to(see?) begin

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