---

E.e. cummings - this is the garden: colours come and go
Work rating: Medium

	this is the garden:colours come and go,
	frail azures fluttering from night`s outer wing
	strong silent greens serenely lingering,
	absolute lights like baths of golden snow.
	This is the garden pursed lips do blow
	upon cool flutes within wide glooms,and sing
	(of harps celestial to the quivering string)
	invisible faces hauntingly and slow.

	This is the garden.   Time shall surely reap
	and on Death`s blade lie many a flower curled,
	in other lands where other songs be sung;
	yet stand They here enraptured,as among
	The slow deep trees perpetual of sleep
	some silver-fingered fountain steals the world.
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.