Now I see it is true, what I guess'd at, What I guess'd when I loaf'd on the grass, What I guess'd while I lay alone in my bed, And again as I walk'd the beach under the paling stars of the morning.
I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women, And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken soon out of their laps.
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The young men float on their backs, their white bellies bulge to the sun, they do not ask who seizes fast to them, They do not know who puffs and declines with pendant and bending arch, They do not think whom they souse with spray.
This minute that comes to me over the past decillions, There is no better than it and now.Distant and dead resuscitate, They show as the dial or move as the hands of me, online gokkasten spelen paysafe I am the clock myself.Turn the bed-clothes toward the foot of the bed, Let the physician and the priest go home.I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.I visit the orchards of spheres and look at the product, And look at quintillions ripen'd and look at quintillions green.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.My head slues round on my neck, Music rolls, but not from the organ, Folks are around me, but they are no household of mine.It cannot fall the young man who died and was buried, Nor the young woman who died and was put by his side, Nor the little child that peep'd in at the door, and then drew back and was never seen again, Nor the old.I dilate you with tremendous breath, I buoy you up, Every room of the house do I fill with an arm'd force, Lovers of me, bafflers of graves.All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.
Rise after rise bow the phantoms behind me, Afar down I see the huge first Nothing, I know I was even there, I waited unseen and always, and slept through the lethargic mist, And took my time, and took no hurt from the fetid carbon.
I do not snivel that snivel the world over, That months are vacuums and the ground but wallow and filth.
We closed with him, the yards entangled, the cannon touch'd, My captain lash'd fast with his own hands.(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.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.Give me a little time beyond my cuff'd head, slumbers, dreams, gaping, I discover myself on the verge of a usual mistake.I hear the train'd soprano (what work with hers is this?) The orchestra whirls me wider than Uranus flies, It wrenches such ardors from me I did not know I possess'd them, It sails me, I dab with bare feet, they are lick'd by the.What behaved well in the past or behaves well to-day is not such wonder, The wonder is always and always how there can be a mean man or an infidel.I fly those flights of a fluid and swallowing soul, My course runs below the soundings of plummets.