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14 The wild gander leads his flock through the cool night, Ya-honk he says, and sounds it down to me like an invitation, The pert may suppose it meaningless, but I listening close, Find its purpose and place up there toward the wintry sky.
Not I, not any one else can travel that road for you, You must travel it for yourself.Which of the young men does she like the best?Sit a while dear son, Here are biscuits to eat and here is milk to drink, But as soon as you sleep and renew yourself in sweet clothes, I kiss you with a good-by kiss and open the gate for your egress hence.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.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.Do you take it I would astonish?Is he from the Mississippi country?Have you practis'd so long to learn to read?The runaway slave came to my house and stopt outside, I heard his motions crackling the twigs of the woodpile, Through the swung half-door of the kitchen I saw him limpsy and weak, And went where he sat on a log and led him.




Breast that presses against other breasts it shall be you!Before I was born out of my mother generations guided me, My embryo has never been torpid, nothing could overlay.Sermons, creeds, theology-but the fathomless human brain, And what is reason?And to those themselves who sank in the sea!Far-swooping elbow'd earth-rich apple-blossom'd earth!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.Hurrah for positive science!Night of south winds-night of the large few stars!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.(This day I am jetting the stuff of far more arrogant republics.) To any one dying, thither I speed and twist the knob of the door.
13 The negro holds firmly the reins of his four horses, the block swags underneath on its tied-over chain, The negro that drives the long dray of the stone-yard, steady and tall he stands pois'd on one leg on the string-piece, His blue shirt exposes.