FOUR, XVIII
A work of e.e. cummings, from "is 5", 1926
i go to this window just as day dissolves when it is twilight(and looking up in fear
I see the new moon thinner than a hair)
making me feel how m̲y̲s̲e̲l̲f̲ has been coarse and dull compared with y̲o̲u̲,silently who are and cling to my mind always
But now she sharpens and becomes crisper until I smile with knowing —and all about herself
the sprouting largest final air
plunges inward with hurled downward thousands of enormous dreams
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