Have you reckon'd the earth much?
And as to you Life I reckon you are the leavings of many deaths, (No doubt I have died myself ten thousand times before.) I hear you whispering there O stars of heaven, O suns-O grass of graves-O perpetual transfers and promotions, If you.
You will hardly know who I am or what I mean, But I shall be good health to you nevertheless, And filter and fibre your blood.3 I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the beginning and the end, But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.Your milky stream pale strippings of my life!The boy I love, the same becomes a man not through derived power, but in his own right, Wicked rather than virtuous out of conformity or fear, Fond of his sweetheart, relishing well his steak, Unrequited love or a slight cutting him worse than sharp.Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening, (Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute longer.) Do I contradict myself?Have you heard that it was good to gain the day?6 A child said What is the grass?23 Endless unfolding of words of ages!Firm masculine colter it shall be you!Turn the bed-clothes toward the foot of the bed, Let the physician and the priest go home.21 I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul, The pleasures of heaven are with me and the pains of hell are with me, The first I graft and increase upon myself, the latter I translate into new.I am an old artillerist, I tell of my fort's bombardment, I am there again.37 You laggards there on guard!34 Now I tell what I knew in Texas in my early youth, (I tell not the fall of Alamo, Not one escaped to tell the fall of Alamo, The hundred and fifty are dumb yet at Alamo 'Tis the tale of the murder.45 O span of youth!
Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged, Missing me one place search another, I stop somewhere waiting for you.
I open my scuttle at night and see the far-sprinkled systems, And all I see multiplied as high as I can cipher edge but the rim of the farther systems.
8 The little one sleeps in its cradle, I lift the gauze and look a long time, and silently brush away flies with my hand.5 I believe in you my soul, the other I am must not abase itself to you, And you must not be abased to the other.The disdain and calmness of martyrs, The mother of old, condemn'd for a witch, burnt with dry wood, her children gazing on, The hounded slave that flags in the race, leans by the fence, blowing, cover'd with sweat, The twinges that sting like needles his.44 It is time to explain myself-let us stand.Creeds and schools in abeyance, Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten, I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard, Nature without check with original energy.Why should I venerate and be ceremonious?I teach straying from me, yet who can stray from me?And what is life?
Mine is no callous shell, I have instant conductors all over me whether I pass or stop, They seize hur att spela blackjack för en levande every object and lead it harmlessly through.
From the cinder-strew'd threshold I follow their movements, The lithe sheer of their waists plays even with their massive arms, Overhand the hammers spela gratis slots på facebook ingen nedladdning swing, overhand so slow, overhand so sure, They do not hasten, each man hits in his place.