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The last scud of day holds back for me, It flings my likeness after the rest and true as any on the shadow'd wilds, It coaxes me to the vapor and the dusk.
50 There is that in me-I do not know what it is-but I know it is.I believe in the flesh and the appetites, Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle.Sprouts take and accumulate, stand by the curb prolific and vital, Landscapes projected masculine, full-sized and golden.The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections, They scorn the best I can do to relate them.And as to you Life I reckon you are the leavings of many deaths, (No doubt I have died myself ten thousand times before.) I hear you whispering there O stars of heaven, O suns-O grass of graves-O perpetual transfers and promotions, If you.
My tread scares the wood-drake and wood-duck on my distant and day-long ramble, They rise together, they slowly circle around.
Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems, You shall possess the good real casino slot spil emulator of the earth and sun, (there are millions of suns left you shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look.




From the cinder-strew'd threshold I follow their movements, The lithe sheer of their waists plays even with their massive arms, Overhand the hammers swing, overhand so slow, overhand so sure, They do not hasten, each man hits in his place.Look to your arms!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.Opustiti moramo mesena ali letna ienja in uvesti ienje v delovni as vsak dan.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.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 not decline to be the poet of wickedness also.What are you doing?You sweaty brooks and dews it shall be you!Presoja se izvaja na kraju dela (v proizvodnji ne v konferennih sobah.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.Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord, A roulette spil til at købe en hub scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt, Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose?
What is a man anyhow?