I plead for my brothers and sisters.
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.
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.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.You will hardly know who I am or what I mean, But I shall be good health to you nevertheless, And filter and fibre your blood.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 gratis gokkasten spelen online oldie not decline to be the poet of wickedness also.I do not ask who you are, that is not important to me, You can do nothing and be nothing but what I will infold you.I pass death with the dying and birth with the new-wash'd babe, and am not contain'd between my hat and boots, And peruse manifold objects, no two alike and every one good, The earth good and the stars good, and their adjuncts all good.O unspeakable passionate love.
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.
And to those whose war-vessels sank in the sea!
45 O span of youth!
What is known I strip away, I launch all men and women forward with me into the Unknown.
My face rubs to the hunter's face when he lies down alone in his blanket, The driver thinking of me does not mind the jolt of his wagon, The young mother and old mother comprehend me, The girl and the wife rest the needle.
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.
The little plentiful manikins skipping around in collars and tail'd coats I am aware who they are, (they are positively not worms or fleas I acknowledge the duplicates of myself, the weakest and shallowest is deathless with me, What I do and say the same.The suicide sprawls on the bloody floor of the bedroom, I witness the corpse with its dabbled hair, I note where the pistol has fallen.You seem to look for something at my hands, Say, old top-knot, what do you want?Quivering me to a euro casino live new identity, Flames and ether 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.Copyright The DayPoems web site, t, is copyright by Timothy.Where are you off to, lady?Well I have, for the Fourth-month showers have, and the mica on the side of a rock has.Have you reckon'd a thousand acres much?A few quadrillions of eras, a few octillions of cubic leagues, do not hazard the span or make it impatient, They are but parts, any thing is but a part.