poetry is infinitely better than studying

O sweet spontaneous
earth how often have
the
doting

    fingers of
purient philosophers pinched
and
poked

thee
, has the naughty thumb
of science prodded
thy

beauty       . how
often have religions taken
thee upon their scraggy knees
squeezing and

buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive
gods
(but
true

to the incomparable
couch of death thy
rhythmic
lover

   thou answerest

them only with

     spring)

e.e. cummings