Sonnets/Unrealities XI

e. e. cummings — it may not always be so

it may not always be so; and i say
that if your lips, which i have love, should touch
another's, and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart, as mine not far away;
if on another's face you sweet hair lay
in such silence as i know, or such
great writhing words as, uttering overmuch
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;

if this should be, i say if this should be —
you of my heart, send me a little word;
that i may go unto him, and take his hands,
saying, accept all happiness from me.
then i shall turn my face, and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands.





And how should I condemn; you, him or myself, for those unreliable feelings of yours when you nested your head onto his chest?