somewhere i have never travelled, glady beyond -- cummings

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)

nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

This is one of my two favorite poems in the world. It's not a particularly elusive technique that cummings employs, but his way of sanding the skin and callouses off of words and pressing their tender meanings right up against each other evokes a sensitivity which is for a large part unmatched in the literary world. It is all just so pretty, so touching, and so sincere. I'd go as far to say it was cute, if the tone weren't so melancholy, in a way. Fun fact: this poem is featured in the Woody Allen movie Hannah And Her Sisters, which on its own is fantastic.