| Monuments to Spring Alright, think of a monument that pleases so much as Spring, when the city's bustle nearly seizes with the fever of each heartbreak survived; and this season of suscitation enters, brash, intent in an effortless manner, call it pride. Consider her in her best, dressed; fullest moods: a monument before its toppling, and Spring knows little of solemn hymns, still less of any atheist's absence or those mysterioso passions toward... What? The free wondrous wheel of fate? Singular true in starlight trim? Nah. Okay. Or as the French say: ca souffit. (Instead we'll take the kids to The Statue of Liberty!) But Spring and it is always nice for some poet to provide some small prize to offer on its cheerful and buzzing green altars. Or perhaps some atypical folks will think it proper to proffer with feigned deliberation, not a thing, but instead to feel, in the suppression of a smile pinching, unhurried, and move on: cummings knew he has forever who forever has (,he) new comings. |
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