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Again gurgles the mouth of my dying general, he furiously waves with his hand, He gasps through the clot Mind not me-mind-the entrenchments.
16 I spela och vinn pengar 4 life am of old and young, of the foolish as much as the wise, Regardless of others, ever regardful of others, Maternal as well as paternal, a child as well as a man, Stuff'd with the stuff that is coarse and stuff'd with the.Through me many long dumb voices, Voices of the interminable generations of prisoners and slaves, Voices of the diseas'd and despairing and of thieves and dwarfs, Voices of cycles of preparation and accretion, And of the threads that connect the stars, and of wombs and.35 Would you hear of an old-time sea-fight?I understand the large hearts of heroes, The courage of present times and all times, How the skipper saw the crowded and rudderless wreck of the steamship, and Death chasing it up and down the storm, How he knuckled tight and gave not back.Oxen that rattle the yoke and chain or halt in the leafy shade, what is that you express in your eyes?I teach straying from me, yet who can stray from me?I do not know what is untried and afterward, But I know it will in its turn prove sufficient, and cannot fail.I open my scuttle at night and see the far-sprinkled systems, And all I see multiplied as high as I can cipher edge but the rim of the farther systems.We closed with him, the yards entangled, the cannon touch'd, My captain lash'd fast with his own hands.42 A call in the midst of the crowd, My own voice, orotund sweeping and final.Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs!Still nodding night-mad naked summer night.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.Of the turbid pool that lies in the autumn forest, Of the moon that descends the steeps of the soughing twilight, Toss, sparkles of day and dusk-toss on the black stems that decay in the muck, Toss to the moaning gibberish of the dry limbs.Mine is no callous shell, I have instant conductors all over me whether I pass or stop, They seize every object and lead it harmlessly through.And proceed to fill my next fold of the future.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.My voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach, With the twirl of my tongue I encompass worlds and volumes of worlds.What do you think has become of the young and old men?49 And as to you Death, and you bitter hug of mortality, it is idle to try to alarm.
Not words of routine this song of mine, But abruptly to question, to leap beyond yet nearer bring; This printed and bound book-but the printer and the printing-office boy?
Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and knowledge that pass all the argument of the earth, And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own, And I know that the spirit of God is the brother.