Where's Madge then, -- e e cummings

(Poem #214) Where's Madge then, Where's Madge then, Madge and her men? buried with Alice in her hair, (but if you ask the rain he'll not tell where.) beauty makes terms with time and his worms, when loveliness says sweetly Yes to wind and cold; and how much earth is Madge worth? Inquire of the flower that sways in the autumn she will never guess. but i know my heart fell dead before. -- e e cummings

There is a certain quality to Cummings' poems that is at once elusive and
unmistakable. Part of it does lie in the 'concrete verse' aspects; the
irregular capitalization and indentation. However, that that is far from the
whole story can be seen in today's poem, which is wholly free of such
effects. The conversational tone, the phrases and images that hover
deceptively on the edge of childishness, the deliberately simple rhymes all
combine to make up a whole that is breathtakingly greater than the sum of
its parts. It's hard to point to any one bit and say 'this is good
because...', and yet the poem as a whole is wonderful, and has not a word
out of place.

For Cummings' biography etc, see poem #57

m.