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If I Have Made,My Lady,Intricate

-e. e. cummings

if i have made,my lady,intricate

imperfect various things chiefly which wrong

your eyes(frailer than most deep dreams are frail)

songs less firm than your body's whitest song

upon my mind-if i have failed to snare

the glance too shy-if through my singing slips

the very skillful strangeness of your smile

the keen primeval silence of your hair

-let the world say "his most wise music stole

nothing from death"-

you only will create

(who are so perfectly alive)my shame:

lady through whose profound and fragile lips

the sweet small clumsy feet of April came

into the ragged meadow of my soul.

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