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Nest of guarded duplicate eggs!
Again the long roll of the drummers, Again the attacking cannon, mortars, Again to my listening ears the cannon responsive.
Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening, (Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute longer.) Do I contradict myself?Hands I have taken, face I have kiss'd, mortal I have ever touch'd, it shall be you.Copyright The DayPoems web spille gratis casino slots vinde rigtige penge depositum kræves site, t, is copyright by Timothy.Have you heard that it was good to gain the day?I seize the descending man and raise him with resistless will, O despairer, here is my neck, By God, you shall not go down!And to all generals that lost engagements, and all overcome heroes!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.I behold the picturesque giant and love him, and I do not stop there, I go with the team also.I am sorry for you, they are not murderous or jealous upon me, All has been gentle with me, I keep no account with lamentation, (What have I to do with lamentation?) I am an acme of things accomplish'd, and I an encloser of things.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.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.



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No shutter'd room or school can commune with me, But roughs and little children better than they.
Back to top DayPoems Poem.Any requests for publication in other venues must be negotiated separately with the authors.I beat and pound for the dead, I blow through my embouchures my loudest and gayest for them.51 The past and present wilt-I have fill'd them, emptied them.Ever the hard unsunk ground, Ever the eaters and drinkers, ever the upward and downward sun, ever the air and the ceaseless tides, Ever myself and my neighbors, refreshing, wicked, real, Ever the old inexplicable query, ever that thorn'd thumb, that breath of itches and.The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections, They scorn the best I can do to relate them.The soldier camp'd or upon the march is mine, On the night ere the pending battle many seek me, and I do not fail them, On that solemn night (it may be their last) those that know me seek.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.Old age superbly rising!


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