Not a moment's cease, The leaks gain fast on the pumps, the fire eats toward the powder-magazine.
It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life.
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.
Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and knowledge that pass all the argument voksne finder job of the earth, And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own, And I know that the spirit of God is the brother.Myself moving forward then and now and forever, Gathering and showing more always and with velocity, Infinite and omnigenous, and the like of these among them, Not too exclusive toward the reachers of my remembrancers, Picking out here one that I love, and now.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.So they show their relations to me and I accept them, They bring me tokens of myself, they evince them plainly in their possession.Did you guess the celestial laws are yet to be work'd over and rectified?Something it swings on more than the earth I swing on, To it the creation is the friend whose embracing awakes.None obey'd the command to kneel, Some made a mad and helpless rush, some stood stark and straight, A few fell at once, shot in the temple or heart, the living and dead lay together, The maim'd and mangled dug in the dirt, the new-comers.I merely stir, press, feel with my fingers, and am happy, To touch my person to some one else's is about as much as I can stand.How they contort rapid as lightning, with spasms and spouts of blood!I do not snivel that snivel the world over, That months are vacuums and the ground but wallow and filth.From the rocks of the river, swinging and chirping over my head, Calling my name from flower-beds, vines, tangled underbrush, Lighting on every moment of my life, Bussing my body with soft balsamic busses, Noiselessly passing handfuls out of their hearts and giving them.
My voice is the wife's voice, the screech by the rail of the stairs, They fetch my man's body up dripping and drown'd.
Welcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of any man hearty and clean, Not an gamle dato for opsparingsbeviser inch nor a particle of an inch is vile, and none shall be less familiar than the rest.
Not I, not any one else can travel that road for you, You must travel it for yourself.I believe in the flesh and the appetites, Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle.O welcome, ineffable grace of dying days!What is known I strip away, I launch all men and women forward with me into the Unknown.Still nodding night-mad naked summer night.I know I am august, I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself or be understood, I see that the elementary laws never apologize, (I reckon I behave no prouder than the level I plant my house by, after all.) I exist.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.
34 Now I tell what I knew in Texas in my early youth, (I tell not the fall of Alamo, Not one escaped to tell the fall of Alamo, The hundred and fifty are dumb yet at Alamo 'Tis the tale of the murder.
I ascend to the foretruck, I take my place late at night in the crow's-nest, We sail the arctic sea, it is plenty light enough, Through the clear atmosphere I stretch around on the wonderful beauty, The enormous masses of ice pass me and.