my love
thy hair is one Kingdom
          the King whereof is darkness
thy forehead is a flight of flowers

thy head is a quick forest
          filled with sleeping birds
thy breasts are swarms of white bees
          upon the bough of thy body
thy body to me is April
in whose armpits is the approach of spring

thy thighs are white horses yoked to a chariot
          of Kings
they are striking of a good minstrel
between them is always a pleasant song

my love
thy head is a casket
          of a cool jewel of thy mind
the hair of thy head is one warrior
          innocent of defeat
thy hair upon thy shoulder is an army
          with victory and with trumpets

thy legs are the trees of dreaming
whose fruit is the very eatage of forgetfulness

thy lips are satraps in scarlet
          in whose kiss is the combining of Kings
thy wrists
are holy
          which are the keepers of the keys of thy blood
thy feet upon thy ankles are flowers in vases
          of silver

in thy beauty is the dilemma of flutes

          thy eyes are the betrayal
of bells comprehended through incense

Edward Estlin CUMMINGS