If a Cheerfullest Elephantangelchild Should Sit

(holding a red candle over his head
by a finger of a trunk, and singing out of a red

book)on a proud round cloud on a
high white night

where his heartlike ears have flown adorable him
self tail and all (and his tail's red christmas bow)
and if, when we meet again, little he (having flown
even higher) is sunning his penguinsoul in the glow

of a joy which wasn't and isn't and won't be words
while possibly not (at a guess) quite halfway down
tot he earth are leapingandswooping tinily birds
whose magical gaity makes your beautiful name--

i feel that (false and true are merely to know)
Love only has ever been, and ever will be, So

e.e. cummings

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