Great Poem: "somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond" by E.E. Cummings

I posted another E.E. Cummings love poem the other day, which I love, but it's not at quite the same level as the one below. The language is the biggest reason, but there is also more complexity to it too.

It suggests an element of sexuality as evidenced by the shutting and opening of a flower, but there is something deeper going on too. It is the feeling of looking at someone and being shattered by their stare; it is to be in awe of your love's "intense fragility," to know them so well that you know the slight flicker of her brow means she's angry or to understand when she is quiet, her thoughts are elsewhere and because of it, you want nothing more than to comfort her.

In the end it means to love someone deeply and passionately, which is something that may be the stuff of fairy tales and bad romantic comedies, but each of us has probably felt this love at moments in our lives; It's not necessarily a romantic feeling, there have been plenty of moments I've felt that intensity for a parent, grandparent, child.

And what an ending... I think the last four lines are absolutely devastating. "The voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses" is such a beautiful line and would be a great end to any poem, but Cummings adds one other line to his poem: "nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands." It's a perfect ending and may be my favorite ending to a poem. His tenderness and adoration for his fragile, beautiful woman shines through in a way that is sentimental, very moving but never cheesy. Anyway, enjoy...

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
by E. E. Cummings
somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands