"somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond" was written by the American poet E. E. Cummings, first published in his 1931 collection ViVa. Cummings is best known for his love poems, and this is considered by many critics to be one of his most exemplary. The poem explores the intense and mysterious power that the speaker's beloved holds over him. Even this person's slightest gesture can emotionally unravel the speaker and then close him back up again, yet the speaker can't quite articulate why this is so. The speaker still gladly and willingly accepts this feeling of vulnerability, which is unlike anything he's ever known. Like many of Cummings's poems, "somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond" uses unconventional punctuation, capitalization, and syntax.
somewhere i have ...
... have their silence:
in your most ...
... are too near
your slightest look ...
... myself as fingers,
you open always ...
... skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose
or if your ...
... shut very beautifully,suddenly,
as when the ...
... carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we ...
... your intense fragility:
whose texture ...
... with each breathing
(i do not ...
... than all roses)
nobody,not even the ... such small hands
Select any word below to get its definition in the context of the poem. The words are listed in the order in which they appear in the poem.
Modernism — An introduction to the modernist poetic movement.
Modernism, Part II — Another brief introduction to modernism and modernist poets from Poets.org, for comparison's sake.
The Poetry of Love — Oft considered one of the great love poets, Cummings's work naturally appears in this collection of renowned love poems.
A Reading of the Poem — Listen to a recording of the poem read by the author himself.
Biography of E. E. Cummings — Learn more about the poet's life and work courtesy of the Poetry Foundation.
1somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
2any experience,your eyes have their silence:
3in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
4or which i cannot touch because they are too near
5your slightest look easily will unclose me
6though i have closed myself as fingers,
7you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
8(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose
9or if your wish be to close me,i and
10my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,
11as when the heart of this flower imagines
12the snow carefully everywhere descending;
13nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
14the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
15compels me with the colour of its countries,
16rendering death and forever with each breathing
17(i do not know what it is about you that closes
18and opens;only something in me understands
19the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
20nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands