The Sky A Silver

E. E. Cummings

the sky a silver
dissonance by the correct
fingers of April
resolved

              into a
clutter of trite jewels

now like a moth with stumbling

wings flutters and flops along the
grass collides with trees and
houses and finally,
butts into the river

Next 10 Poems

• E. E. Cummings : The Sky Was
• E. E. Cummings : The Wind Is A Lady With
• E. E. Cummings : There Is A
• E. E. Cummings : This Is The Garden:colours Come And Go
• E. E. Cummings : Thy Fingers Make Early Flowers
• E. E. Cummings : Tumbling-hair
• E. E. Cummings : Unto Thee I
• E. E. Cummings : When God Lets My Body Be
• E. E. Cummings : When I Have Thought Of You Somewhat Too
• E. E. Cummings : When Life Is Quite Through With

Previous 10 Poems

• E. E. Cummings : The Skinny Voice
• E. E. Cummings : The Rose
• E. E. Cummings : The Poem Her Belly Marched Through Me As
• E. E. Cummings : The Phonograph's Voice Like A Keen Spider Skipping
• E. E. Cummings : The Moon Is Hiding In
• E. E. Cummings : The Mind Is Its Own Beautiful Prisoner
• E. E. Cummings : The Hours Rise Up Putting Off Stars And It Is
• E. E. Cummings : The Hills
• E. E. Cummings : The Glory Is Fallen Out Of
• E. E. Cummings : The Emperor