it is at moments after i have dreamed

of the rare entertainment of your eyes

when (being fool to fancy) i have deemed

with your peculiar mouth my heart made wise;

at moments when the glassy darkness holds

the genuine apparition of your smile

(it was through tears always) and silence moulds

the strangeness as was mine a little while;

moments when once more my illustrious arms

are filled with fascination, when my breast

wears the intolerant brightness of your charms:

one pierced moment whiter than the rest

-turning from the tremendous lie of sleep

i watch the roses of the day grow deep.

e.e. cummings