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I am facebook gratis casino slots med bonusspel ingen nedladdning he attesting sympathy, (Shall I make my list of things in the house and gratis casino spel ladda ner e63 skip the house that supports them?) I am not the poet of goodness only, I do not decline to be the poet of wickedness also.
The young mechanic is closest to me, he knows me well, The woodman that takes his axe and jug with him shall take me with him all day, The farm-boy ploughing in the field feels good at the sound of my voice, In vessels that.
The boy I love, the same becomes a man not through derived power, but in his own right, Wicked rather than virtuous out of conformity or fear, Fond of his sweetheart, relishing well his steak, Unrequited love or a slight cutting him worse than sharp.Far-swooping elbow'd earth-rich apple-blossom'd earth!This is the geologist, this works with the scalper, and this is a mathematician.46 I know I have the best of time and space, and was never measured and never will be measured.Do you see O my brothers and sisters?
Copyright The DayPoems web site, t, is copyright by Timothy.
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My voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach, With the twirl of my tongue I encompass worlds and volumes of worlds.
I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning, How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn'd over upon me, And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my bare-stript heart, And reach'd till you felt.
I take part, I see and hear the whole, The cries, curses, roar, the plaudits for well-aim'd shots, The ambulanza slowly passing trailing its red drip, Workmen searching after damages, making indispensable repairs, The fall of grenades through the rent roof, the fan-shaped explosion, The.
Look to your arms!
You light surfaces only, I force surfaces and depths also.14 The wild gander leads his flock through the cool night, Ya-honk he says, and sounds it down to me like an invitation, The pert may suppose it meaningless, but I listening close, Find its purpose and place up there toward the wintry sky.They do not sweat and whine about their condition, They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins, They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God, Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania.16 I 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.Give me a little time beyond my cuff'd head, slumbers, dreams, gaping, I discover myself on the verge of a usual mistake.Not a mutineer walks handcuff'd to jail but I am handcuff'd to him and walk by his side, (I am less the jolly one there, and more the silent one with sweat on my twitching lips.) Not a youngster is taken for larceny but.O welcome, ineffable grace of dying days!Partaker of influx and efflux I, extoller of hate and conciliation, Extoller of amies and those that sleep in each others' arms.Gentlemen, to you the first honors always!


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