I an encloser of things.
I know I am deathless, I know this orbit of mine cannot be swept by a carpenter's compass, I know I shall not pass like a child's carlacue cut with a burnt stick at night.
Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!
I believe in the flesh and the appetites, Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle.In at the conquer'd doors they crowd!That I walk up my stoop, I pause to consider if it really be, A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books.Hankering, gross, mystical, nude; How is it I extract strength from the beef I eat?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.Does the daylight astonish?My voice is the wife's voice, the screech by the rail of the stairs, They fetch my man's body up dripping and drown'd.We also ascend dazzling and tremendous as the sun, We found our own O my soul in the calm and cool of the daybreak.
Sleep-I and they keep guard all night, Not doubt, not decease shall dare to lay finger upon you, I have embraced you, and henceforth possess you to myself, And when you rise in the morning you will find what I tell you.
12 The butcher-boy puts off his killing-clothes, or sharpens his knife at the stall in the market, I loiter enjoying his repartee and his shuffle and break-down.
Immense have been the preparations for me, Faithful and friendly the arms that have help'd.Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged, Missing me one place search another, I stop somewhere waiting for you.Be at peace bloody flukes of doubters and sullen mopers, I take my place among you as much as among any, The past is the push of you, me, all, precisely the same, And what is yet untried and afterward is for you, me, all.I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun, I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift spelautomater utan nedladdning it in lacy jags.View more sites like this, you have not yet voted on this site!Well I have, for the Fourth-month showers have, and the mica on the side of a rock has.Divine am I inside and out, and I make holy whatever I touch or am touch'd from, The scent of these arm-pits aroma finer than prayer, This head more than churches, bibles, and all the creeds.I know perfectly well my own egotism, Know my omnivorous lines and must not write any less, And would fetch you whoever you are flush with myself.I remember now, I resume the overstaid fraction, The grave of rock multiplies what has been confided to it, or to any graves, Corpses rise, gashes heal, fastenings roll from.