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While you ponder this, enjoy a poem:
i go to this window (1926)
by e. e. cummings
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 myself has been coarse and dull
compared with you, 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