to dream of Spring

At the library, checking in serials. The English Journal came today, and a poem of E.E. Cummings' was on the front:

Now i lay(with everywhere around)
me(the great dim deep sound
of rain; and of always and of nowhere)and

what a gently welcoming darkestness--

now i lay me down(in a most steep
more than music)feeling that sunlight is
(life and day are)only loaned:whereas
night is given(night and death and the rain

are given;and given is how beautifully snow)

now i lay me down to dream of (nothing
i or any somebody or you
can begin to begin to imagine)

something which nobody may keep.
now i lay me down to dream of Spring