what if a much of a which of a wind gives the truth to summer's lie; bloodies with dizzying leaves the sun and yanks immortal stars awry? Blow king to beggar and queen to seam (blow friend to fiend: blow space to time) —when skies are hanged and oceans drowned, the single secret will still be man what if a keen of a lean wind flays screaming hills with sleet and snow: strangles valleys by ropes of thing and stifles forests in white ago? Blow hope to terror; blow seeing to blind (blow pity to envy and soul to mind) —whose hearts are mountains, roots are trees, it's they shall cry hello to the spring what if a dawn of a doom of a dream bites this universe in two, peels forever out of his grave and sprinkles nowhere with me and you? Blow soon to never and never to twice (blow life to isn't: blow death to was) —all nothing's only our hugest home; the most who die, the more we live.
— e. e. cummings, 1944