The Glory Is
Fallen Out Of
the glory is
fallen out of
the sky the
last immortal
leaf
is dead and the
gold
year
a formal spasm
in the
dust
this is the
passing of all shining things
therefore we
also
blandly
into receptive
earth, O let
us
descend
take
shimmering wind
these fragile
splendors from
us crumple them
hide
them in thy breath
drive
them in
nothingness
for we
would sleep
this is the
passing of all shining things
no lingering no
backward-
wondering be
unto
us O
soul, but
straight
glad feet fear
ruining
and glory
girded
faces
lead us
into the
serious
steep darkness
e. e. cummings
