your egress hence.
I hasten to inform him or her it is just as lucky to die, and I know.
I am the mash'd fireman with breast-bone broken, Tumbling walls buried me in their debris, Heat and smoke I inspired, I heard the yelling shouts of my pengar spel frågesport online comrades, I heard the distant click of their picks and shovels, They have clear'd the beams away, they.9 The big doors of the country barn stand open and ready, The dried grass of the harvest-time loads the slow-drawn wagon, The clear light plays on the brown gray and green intertinged, The armfuls are pack'd to the sagging mow.I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.46 I know I have the best of time and space, and was never measured and never will be measured.28 Is this then a touch?What have you to confide to me?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.Nest of guarded duplicate eggs!They are alive and well somewhere, The smallest sprout shows there is really no death, And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it, And ceas'd the moment life appear'd.My breath is tight in its throat, Unclench your floodgates, you are too much for.Look to your arms!
The tops alone second the fire of this little battery, especially the main-top, They hold out bravely during the whole of the action.
45 O span of youth!
Somehow I have been stunn'd.
Out of the dimness opposite equals advance, always substance and increase, always sex, Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed of life.
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.The Yankee clipper is under her sky-sails, she cuts the sparkle and scud, My eyes settle the land, I bend at her prow or shout joyously from the deck.Fetch stonecrop mixt with cedar and branches of lilac, This is the lexicographer, this the chemist, this made a grammar of the old cartouches, These mariners put the ship through dangerous unknown seas.Distant and dead resuscitate, They show as the dial or move as the hands of me, I am the clock myself.Come now I will not be tantalized, you conceive too much of articulation, Do you not know O speech how the buds beneath you are folded?I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.35 Would you hear of an old-time sea-fight?Something it swings on more than the earth I swing on, To it the creation is the friend whose embracing awakes.O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues, And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing.