unto thee i by: e.e. cummings   unto thee i  burn incense  the bowl crackles  upon the gloom arise purple pencils  fluent spires of fragrance  the bowl  seethes  a flutter of stars  a turbulence of forms  delightful with indefinable flowering,  the air is  deep with desirable flowers  i think  thou lovest incense  for in the ambiguous faint aspirings  the indolent frail ascensions,  of thy smile rises the immaculate  sorrow  of thy low  hair flutter the level litanies  unto thee i burn  incense,over the dim smoke  straining my lips are vague with  ecstasy my palpitating breasts inhale the  slow  supple  flower  of thy beauty,my heart discovers thee  unto  whom i  burn  olbanum