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My rendezvous is appointed, it is certain, The Lord will be there and wait till I come on perfect terms, The great Camerado, the lover true for whom I pine will be there.
Prodigal, you have given me love-therefore I to you give love!
Ah the homeliest of them is beautiful to her.
By the city's quadrangular houses-in log huts, camping with lumber-men, Along the ruts of the turnpike, along the dry gulch and rivulet bed, Weeding my onion-patch or hosing rows of carrots and parsnips, crossing savannas, trailing in forests, Prospecting, gold-digging, girdling the trees.This is the press of a bashful hand, this the float and odor of hair, This the touch of my lips to yours, this the murmur of yearning, This the far-off depth and height reflecting my own face, This the thoughtful merge of myself, and.I teach straying from me, yet who can stray from me?O welcome, ineffable grace of dying days!In all people I see myself, none more and not one a barley-corn less, And the good or bad I say of myself I say of them.Have you practis'd so long danske online casino mobile to learn to read?The Yankee clipper is under her sky-sails, she cuts the sparkle and scud, My eyes settle the land, I bend at her prow or shout joyously from the deck.If our colors are struck and the fighting done?You are not guilty to me, nor stale nor discarded, I see through the broadcloth and gingham whether or no, And am around, tenacious, acquisitive, tireless, and cannot be shaken away.Come første slot maskine år now I will not be tantalized, you conceive too much of articulation, Do you not know O speech how the buds beneath you are folded?



Copyright The DayPoems web site, t, is copyright by Timothy.
And to those whose war-vessels sank in the sea!
21 I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul, The pleasures of heaven are with me and the pains of hell are with me, The first I graft and increase upon myself, the latter I translate into new.
8 The little one sleeps in its cradle, I lift the gauze and look a long time, and silently brush away flies with my hand.Does the daylight astonish?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.Have you reckon'd a thousand acres much?I dote on myself, there is that lot of me and all so luscious, Each moment and whatever happens thrills me with joy, I cannot tell how my ankles bend, nor whence the cause of my faintest wish, Nor the cause of the friendship.




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