but the other br day i was passing a certain br gate rain br fell as it will br br br in spring br ropes br of silver gliding from sunny br thunder into freshness br br br as if god's flowers were br pulling upon bells of br gold i looked br up br br br and br thought to myself death br and will You with br elaborate fingers possibly touch br br br the pink hollyhock existence whose br pansy eyes look from morning till br night into the street br unchangingly the always br br br old lady sitting in her br gentle window like br a reminiscence br partaken br br br softly at whose gate smile br always the chosen br flowers of remindingbr br Edward Estlin Cummingsbr br