Explore "Through the Young and Awkward Hours" by E.E. Cummings on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Through the young and awkward hours / my lady perfectly moving, / through the new world scarce astir / my fragile lady wandering / in whose perishable poise / is the mystery of Spring
(with her beauty more than snow / dexterous and fugitive / my very frail lady drifting / distinctly, moving like a myth / in the uncertain morning, with / April feet like sudden flowers