Poetic mode

It Is At Moments After I Have Dreamed
by E. E. Cummings

It is at moments after I have dreamed
of the rare entertainment of your eyes,
when (being fool to fancy) I have deemed

With your peculiar mouth my heart made wise;
at moments when the glassy darkness holds

The genuine apparition of your smile
(it was through tears always) and silence moulds
such strangeness as was mine a little while;

Moments when my once more illustrious arms
are filled with fascination, when my breast
wears the intolerant brightness of your charms:

One pierced moment whiter than the rest

-turning from the tremendous lie of sleep
I watch the roses of the day grow deep.