This is the press of a bashful hand, this the float and odor of hair, This the touch of my spille gratis blackjack online ingen download angreb 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.
Magnifying and applying come I, Outbidding at the start the old cautious hucksters, Taking myself the exact dimensions of Jehovah, Lithographing Kronos, Zeus his son, and Hercules his grandson, Buying drafts of Osiris, Isis, Belus, Brahma, Buddha, In my portfolio placing Manito loose, Allah.
List to the yarn, as my grandmother's father the sailor told it.47 I am the teacher of athletes, He that spille gratis casino slot spil online ingen download gratis by me spreads a wider breast than my own proves the width of my own, He most honors my style who learns under it to destroy the teacher.You light surfaces only, I force surfaces and depths also.I lie in the night air in my red shirt, the pervading hush is for my sake, Painless after all I lie exhausted but not so unhappy, White and beautiful are the faces around me, the heads are bared of their fire-caps, The kneeling crowd.Winds whose soft-tickling genitals rub against me it shall be you!6 A child said What is the grass?My breath is tight in its throat, Unclench your floodgates, you are too much for.
This is the grass that grows wherever the land is and the water is, This the common air that bathes the globe.
If you would understand me go to the heights or water-shore, The nearest gnat is an explanation, and a drop or motion of waves key, The maul, the oar, the hand-saw, second my words.
23 Endless unfolding of words of ages!
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.
Smile O voluptuous cool-breath'd earth!10 Alone far in the wilds and mountains gambling spil faro I hunt, Wandering amazed at my own lightness and glee, In the late afternoon choosing a safe spot to pass the night, Kindling a fire and broiling the fresh-kill'd game, Falling asleep on the gather'd leaves with.The boatmen and clam-diggers arose early and stopt for me, I tuck'd my trowser-ends in my boots and went and had a good time; You should have been with us that day round the chowder-kettle.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.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.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.Something it swings on more than the earth I swing on, To it the creation is the friend whose embracing awakes.