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I do not know what it is any more than. My ties and ballasts leave me, my elbows rest in sea-gaps, I skirt sierras, my palms cover continents, I am afoot with my vision. Oxen that rattle the yoke and chain or halt in the leafy shade, what is that you express in your eyes? 1900 Comment on DayPoems? I wonder where they get those tokens, Did I pass that way huge times ago and

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negligently drop them? Now I see it is true, what I guess'd at, What I guess'd when I loaf'd on the grass, What I guess'd while I lay alone in my bed, And again as I walk'd the beach under the paling stars of the morning. I am given up by traitors, I talk wildly, I have lost my wits, I and nobody else am the greatest traitor, I went myself first to the headland, my own hands carried me there.

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Backward I see in my own days where I sweated through fog with linguists and contenders, I have no mockings or arguments, I witness and wait. I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven. By, walt Whitman, i celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. 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. The editor of DayPoems will gladly assist in putting interested parties in contact with the authors. I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women, And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken soon out of their laps. I chant the chant of dilation or pride, We have had ducking and deprecating about enough, I show that size is only development. I beat and pound for the dead, I blow through my embouchures my loudest and gayest for them. You light surfaces only, I force surfaces and depths also.


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  • 1 I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
  • I loafe and invite my soul.
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Were mankind murderous or jealous upon you, my brother, my sister? I know perfectly well my own egotism, Know my omnivorous lines and must not write any less, And would fetch you whoever you are flush with myself. I am not an earth nor an adjunct of an earth, I am the mate and companion of people, all just as immortal and fathomless as myself, (They do not know how immortal, but I know.) Every kind for itself and its own, for. I am an old artillerist, I tell of my fort's bombardment, I am there again. Something it swings on more than the earth I swing on, To it the creation is the friend whose embracing awakes. Tenderly will I use you curling grass, It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men, It may be if I had known them I would have loved them, It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out.

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For it the nebula cohered to an orb, The long slow strata piled to rest it on, Vast vegetables gave it sustenance, Monstrous sauroids transported it in their mouths and deposited it with care. This is the grass that grows wherever the land is and the water is, This the common air that bathes the globe. 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. I do not call one greater and one smaller, That which fills its period and place is equal to any. My sun has his sun and round him obediently wheels, He joins with his partners a group of superior circuit, And greater sets follow, making specks of the greatest inside them. And as to you Corpse I think you are good manure, but that does not offend me, I smell the white roses sweet-scented and growing, I reach to the leafy lips, I reach to the polish'd breasts of melons. Again the long roll of the drummers, Again the attacking cannon, mortars, Again to my listening ears the cannon responsive. It is not chaos or death-it is form, union, plan-it is eternal life-it is Happiness.

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escort annonser massage escort dk Each who passes is consider'd, each who stops is consider'd, not single one can it fall. If you tire, give me both burdens, and rest the chuff of your hand on my hip, And in due time you shall repay the same service to me, For after we start we never lie by again. Evil propels me and reform of evil propels me, I stand indifferent, My gait is no fault-finder's or rejecter's gait, I moisten the roots of all that has grown. Easily written loose-finger'd escort annonser massage escort dk chords-I feel the thrum of your climax and close. One of that centripetal and centrifugal gang I turn and talk like man leaving charges before a journey.
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