O sweet spontaneous

e e cummings

 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
 oftn 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)

Commentary

While the main theme of today’s poem is one that never fails to faintly disappoint me, I must admit that it has produced some beautiful poems. The disappointment is, of course, due to the persistent failure of a certain class of poems to understand the sheer beauty of science, and the fact that the scientist’s appreciation of nature is undiminished by the desire for understanding. “O sweet spontaneous” goes much further than “pity this busy monster, manunkind” - Cummings makes almost literal the (common) metaphor of the scientist raping the defenceless earth.

The sexual imagery is underscored by the fact that Cummings changed ‘philosophies’ to ‘philosophers’12 - he sets not just Science, but Man up in direct opposition to the ‘sweet, spontaneous earth’ (bleh!).

Annoyance aside, though, this is a wonderful poem. I may not agree with Cummings’ sentiments, but he makes them beautifully, with a vivid sequence of images culminating in the exquisite

           ... the incomparable
           couch of death thy
           rhythmic
           lover

In one short phrase, the scope of the poem is expanded dizzyingly - indeed, the ‘pace’ and density of the poem increase sharply towards the end, until it levels off gently, almost quietly in the last ‘verse’. The almost concrete nature of the layout helps here, with the multiple blank lines being used to very good effect.

Links

http://www.library.utoronto.ca/utel/rp/poems/eec2.html has a bit of the poem’s revision history in the notes

Biography of Cummings: See Poem #57

Some other poems on Science:

Poem #54, Walt Whitman, “When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomer” Poem #57, E. E. Cummings, “pity this busy monster manunkind” Poem #795, Harold P. Furth, “The Perils of Modern Living” Poem #797, Lewis F. Richardson, “Big Whorls Have Little Whorls” Poem #798, John Updike, “V.B. Nimble, V.B. Quick” Poem #800, Miroslav Holub, “In the Microscope” Poem #801, D. D. Perrin, “A mosquito was heard to complain” Poem #803, Catherine Faber, “The Word of God”

— Martin

  1. see the first link ↩

  2. maybe the new US version should read ‘sorcerers’ <g> ↩

The Wondering Minstrels, poem #945 · 18 November 2001

Poem selected by Martin DeMello

Fair use

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From the Wondering Minstrels mailing list, 1999–2008.

Don Skoller · 1 June 2005

I think it’s very important to allay the first commenter “martin”’s disappointments about the poem –“o sweet spontaneous earth …”– and its outlook on science. Cummings says “how often” not “always”. Unless “martin” himself wants to be absolutist and grant the scientific/literalist/didactic mind a free pass on all it does, he might reconsider his paeon to science and pee-on to e.e.