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)

~~e.e. cummings