Every condition promulges not only itself, it promulges what grows after and out of itself, And the dark hush promulges as much as any.
Quivering me to a new identity, Flames and ether gratis gokkasten spelen nl vertigo making a rush for my veins, Treacherous tip of me reaching and crowding to help them, My flesh and blood playing out lightning to strike what is hardly different from myself, On all sides prurient provokers.
In the houses the dishes and fare and furniture-but the host and hostess, and the look out of their eyes?
33 Space and Time!Will you speak before I am gone?What have you to confide to me?Sprouts take and accumulate, stand by the curb prolific and vital, Landscapes projected masculine, full-sized and golden.Even as I stand or sit passing faster than you.Waiting in gloom, protected by frost, The dirt receding before my prophetical screams, I underlying causes to balance them at last, My knowledge my live parts, it keeping tally with the meaning of all things, Happiness, (which whoever hears me let him or her set.
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.
In all people I see myself, none more and not one a barley-corn less, And the good or bad I say of myself I say of them.
All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.
The soldier camp'd or upon the march is mine, On the night ere the pending battle many seek me, and I do not fail them, On that solemn night (it may be their last) those that know me seek.
3 I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the beginning and the end, But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.
Somehow I have been stunn'd.10 Alone far in the wilds and mountains I hunt, Wandering amazed at my own lightness and glee, In the late afternoon choosing a safe spot to pass the night, Kindling a fire and broiling the fresh-kill'd game, Falling asleep on the gather'd leaves with.I hear the train'd soprano (what work with hers is this?) The orchestra whirls me wider than Uranus flies, It wrenches such ardors from me I did not know I possess'd them, It sails me, I dab with bare feet, they are lick'd by the.The Yankee clipper is under her sky-sails, she cuts the sparkle and scud, My eyes settle the land, I bend at her prow or shout joyously from the deck.To elaborate is no avail, learn'd and unlearn'd feel that it.O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues, And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing.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.Earth of the limpid gray of clouds brighter and clearer for my sake!I believe in those wing'd purposes, And acknowledge red, yellow, white, playing within me, And consider green and violet and the tufted crown intentional, And do not call the tortoise unworthy because she is not something else, And the in the woods never studied the.