6 A child said What is the grass?
All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.
37 You laggards there on guard!
Loafe with me on the grass, loose the stop from your throat, Not words, not music or rhyme I want, not custom or lecture, not even the best, Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.
Ah the homeliest of them is beautiful to her.Have you reckon'd the earth much?You light surfaces only, I force surfaces and depths also.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 spille penge dokumentar ventil and days.
Divine am I inside and out, and I make holy whatever I touch or am touch'd from, The scent of these arm-pits aroma finer than prayer, This head more than churches, bibles, and all the creeds.
What is a man anyhow?
I follow you whoever you are from the present hour, My words itch at your ears till you understand them.
Click here to learn more about how you can keep DayPoems on the Web.My tread scares the wood-drake and wood-duck on my distant and day-long ramble, They rise together, they slowly circle around.I hasten to inform him or her it is just as lucky to die, and I know.Speech is the twin of my vision, it is unequal to measure itself, It provokes me forever, it says sarcastically, Walt you contain enough, why don't you let it out then?I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun, I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags.