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Do you take it I would astonish?
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Will you speak before I am gone?
Mix'd tussled hay of head, beard, brawn, it shall be you!

I do not call one greater and one smaller, That which fills its period and place is equal to any.Wrench'd and sweaty-calm and cool then my body becomes, I sleep-I sleep long.Hands I have taken, face I have kiss'd, mortal I have ever touch'd, it shall be you.A gigantic beauty of a stallion, fresh and responsive to my caresses, Head high in the forehead, wide between the ears, Limbs glossy and supple, tail dusting the ground, Eyes full of sparkling wickedness, ears finely cut, flexibly moving.I am satisfied-I see, dance, laugh, sing; As the hugging and loving bed-fellow sleeps at my side through the night, and withdraws at the peep of the day with stealthy tread, Leaving me baskets cover'd with white towels swelling the house with their plenty, Shall.Agonies are one of my changes of garments, I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person, My hurts turn livid upon me as I lean on a cane and observe.