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Give me a little time beyond my cuff'd head, slumbers, dreams, gaping, I discover myself on the verge of a usual mistake.
Firm masculine colter it shall be you!
By the city's quadrangular houses-in log huts, camping with lumber-men, Along the ruts of the turnpike, along the dry gulch and rivulet bed, Weeding my onion-patch or hosing rows of carrots and parsnips, crossing savannas, trailing in forests, Prospecting, gold-digging, girdling the trees.Ah the homeliest of them is beautiful to her.I visit the orchards of spheres and look at the product, And look at quintillions ripen'd and look at quintillions green.An unseen hand also pass'd over their bodies, It descended tremblingly from their temples and ribs.Again the long roll of the drummers, Again the attacking cannon, mortars, Again to my listening ears the cannon responsive.I follow poker slot maskiner atlantic city you stinkin rika slot maskinen strategi försäljning whoever you are from the present hour, My words itch at your ears till you understand them.And mine a word of the modern, the word En-Masse.The earth by the sky staid with, the daily close of their junction, The heav'd challenge from the east that moment over my head, The mocking taunt, See then whether you shall be master!That I could forget the mockers and insults!My foothold is tenon'd and mortis'd in granite, I laugh at what you call dissolution, And I know the amplitude of time.It cannot fall the young man who died and was buried, Nor the young woman who died and was put by his side, Nor the little child that peep'd in at the door, and then drew back and was never seen again, Nor the old.That I could forget the trickling tears and the blows of the bludgeons and hammers!




Why should I venerate and be ceremonious?I am enamour'd of growing out-doors, Of men that live among cattle or taste of the ocean or woods, Of the builders and steerers of ships and the wielders of axes and mauls, and the drivers of horses, I can eat and sleep with them.It is a trifle, they will more than arrive there every one, and still pass.I help myself to material and immaterial, No guard can shut me off, no law prevent.52 The spotted hawk swoops by and accuses me, he complains of my gab and my loitering.Who wishes to walk with me?Won't you help support DayPoems?The young men float on their backs, their white bellies bulge to the sun, they do not ask who seizes fast to them, They do not know who puffs and declines with pendant and bending arch, They do not think whom they souse with spray.
And my spirit said No, vinn pengar gratis nu för 18 we but level that lift to pass and continue beyond.
Of the turbid pool that lies in the autumn forest, Of the moon that descends the steeps of the soughing twilight, Toss, sparkles of day and dusk-toss on the black stems that decay in the muck, Toss to the moaning gibberish of the dry limbs.