I am not an earth nor an adjunct of slot car spil 88c 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.
Partaker of influx and efflux I, extoller of hate and conciliation, Extoller of amies and those that sleep in each others' arms.
41 I am he bringing help for the sick as they pant on their backs, And for strong upright men I bring yet more needed help.Still nodding night-mad naked summer night.Old age superbly rising!This hour I tell things in confidence, I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you.Hang your whole weight upon.List to the yarn, as my grandmother's father the sailor told it.You are not guilty to me, nor stale nor discarded, I see through the broadcloth and gingham whether or no, And am around, tenacious, acquisitive, tireless, and cannot be shaken away.One of that centripetal and centrifugal gang I turn and talk like man leaving charges before a journey.The boatmen and clam-diggers arose early and stopt for me, I tuck'd my trowser-ends in my boots and went and had a good time; You should have been with us that day round the chowder-kettle.To cotton-field drudge or cleaner of privies I lean, On his right cheek I put the family kiss, And in my soul I swear I never will deny him.The sharp-hoof'd moose of the north, the cat on the house-sill, the chickadee, the prairie-dog, The litter of the grunting sow as they tug at her teats, The brood of the turkey-hen and she with her half-spread wings, I see in them and myself the.Births have brought us richness and variety, And other births will bring us richness and variety.I plead for my brothers and sisters.
This is the geologist, this works with the scalper, and this is a mathematician.
Toward twelve there in the beams of the moon they surrender.
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Nest of guarded duplicate eggs!Oxen that rattle the yoke and chain or halt in the leafy shade, what is that you express in your eyes?48 I have said that the soul is not more than the body, And I have said that the body is not more than the soul, And nothing, not God, is greater to one than one's self is, And whoever walks a furlong without sympathy.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.The disdain and calmness of martyrs, The mother of old, condemn'd for a witch, burnt with dry wood, her children gazing on, The hounded slave that flags in the race, leans by the fence, blowing, cover'd with sweat, The twinges that sting like needles his.44 It is time to explain myself-let us stand.Is he from the Mississippi country?What blurt is this about virtue and about vice?Embody all presences outlaw'd or suffering, See myself in prison shaped like another man, And feel the dull unintermitted pain.I visit the orchards of spheres and look at the product, And look at quintillions ripen'd and look at quintillions green.
I go hunting polar furs and the seal, leaping chasms with a pike-pointed staff, clinging to topples of brittle and blue.