O sweet spontaneous

 by e.e. cummings

O sweet spontaneous
              earth how often have
              the
              doting

                          fingers of
              purient philosophers pinched
              and
              poked

              thee
              ,has the naughty thumb
              of science prodded
              thy

                    beauty         .how
               oftn have religions taken
               thee upon their scraggy knees
               squeezing and
              
               buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive
               gods
                         (but
               true

               to the incomparable
               couch of death thy
               rhythmic
               lover
                                          thou answerest
               them only with
                                                           spring)

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