And the numberless unknown heroes equal to the greatest heroes known!
Something it swings on more than the earth I swing on, To it the creation is the friend whose embracing awakes.
How they contort rapid as lightning, with spasms and spouts of blood!
Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!
Do I astonish more than they?The saints and sages in history-but you yourself?I am satisfied-I see, dance, laugh, sing; As the hugging and loving bed-fellow sleeps at my side through the night, and withdraws at the peep of the day with stealthy tread, Leaving me baskets cover'd with white towels swelling the house with their plenty, Shall.Do you guess I have some intricate purpose?I am enamour'd of growing out-doors, Of men that live blackjack gioco gratis quiz among cattle or taste of the ocean or woods, Of the builders and steerers of ships and the wielders of axes and mauls, and the drivers of horses, I can eat and sleep with them.Whoever degrades another degrades me, And whatever is done or said returns at last.A tenor large and fresh as the creation fills me, The orbic flex of his mouth is pouring and filling me full.We had receiv'd some eighteen pound shots under the water, On our lower-gun-deck two large pieces had burst at the first fire, killing all around and blowing up overhead.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 mini slot machine reels he sat on a log and led him.All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.Winds whose soft-tickling genitals rub against me it shall be you!
The smoke of my own breath, Echoes, ripples, buzz'd whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and vine, My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs, The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore.
Why should I pray?
52 The spotted hawk swoops by and accuses me, he complains of my gab and my loitering.
Through me the afflatus surging and surging, through me the current and index.Man or woman, I might tell how I like you, but cannot, And might tell what it is in me and what it is in you, but cannot, And might tell that pining I have, that pulse of my nights and days.That I could forget the mockers and insults!Unscrew the locks from the doors!Have you outstript the rest?