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Long have you timidly waded holding a plank by the shore, Now I will you to be a bold swimmer, To jump off in the midst of the sea, rise again, nod to me, shout, and laughingly dash with your hair.
Do you guess I have some intricate purpose?
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Showing the best and dividing it from the worst age vexes age, Knowing the perfect fitness and equanimity of things, while they discuss I am silent, and go bathe and admire myself.
The clock indicates the moment-but what does eternity indicate?




My voice is the wife's voice, the screech by the rail of the stairs, They fetch my man's body up dripping and drown'd.It is a trifle, they will more than arrive there every one, and still pass.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.51 The past and present wilt-I have fill'd them, emptied them.Sure as the most certain sure, plumb in the uprights, well entretied, braced in the beams, Stout as a horse, affectionate, haughty, electrical, I and this mystery here we stand.Perhaps I might tell more.The blab of the pave, tires of carts, sluff of boot-soles, talk of the promenaders, The heavy omnibus, the driver with his interrogating thumb, the clank of the shod horses on the granite floor, The snow-sleighs, clinking, shouted jokes, pelts of snow-balls, The hurrahs for.Vivas to those who have fail'd!The runaway slave came to my house and stopt outside, I heard his motions crackling the twigs of the woodpile, Through the swung half-door of the kitchen I saw him limpsy and weak, And went where he sat on a log and led him.The transit to and from the magazine is now stopt by the sentinels, They see so many strange faces they do not know whom to trust.
And to those whose war-vessels sank in the sea!
My lovers suffocate me, Crowding my lips, thick in the pores of my skin, Jostling me through streets and public halls, coming naked to me at night, Crying by day, Ahoy!