I go hunting polar furs and the seal, leaping chasms with a pike-pointed staff, clinging to topples of ingen insättningsbonus bingo på nätet brittle and blue.
You seem to look for something at my hands, Say, old top-knot, what do you want?
I chant the chant of dilation or pride, We have had ducking and deprecating about enough, I show that size is only development.One of that centripetal and centrifugal gang I turn and talk like man leaving charges before a journey.Fetch stonecrop mixt with cedar and branches of lilac, This is the lexicographer, this the chemist, this made a grammar of the old cartouches, These mariners put the ship through dangerous unknown seas.I am he attesting sympathy, (Shall I make my list of things in the house and skip the house that supports them?) I am not the poet of goodness only, I do not decline to be the poet of wickedness also.Again the long roll of the drummers, Again the attacking cannon, mortars, Again to my listening ears the cannon responsive.
33 Space and Time!
I do not laugh at your oaths nor jeer you The President holding a cabinet council is surrounded by the great Secretaries, On the piazza walk three matrons stately and friendly with twined arms, The crew of the fish-smack pack repeated layers of halibut.
32 I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid and self-contain'd, I stand and look at them long and long.The black ship mail'd with iron, her mighty guns in her turrets-but the pluck of the captain and engineers?Smile O voluptuous cool-breath'd earth!Hankering, gross, mystical, nude; How is it I extract strength from the beef I eat?At eleven o'clock began the burning of the bodies; That is the tale of the murder of the four hundred and twelve young men.Long I was hugg'd close-long and long.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.
I am the mash'd fireman with breast-bone broken, Tumbling walls buried me in their debris, Heat and smoke I inspired, I heard the yelling shouts of my comrades, I heard the distant click of their picks and shovels, They have clear'd the beams away, they.
27 To be in any form, what is that?