O unspeakable passionate love.
I ascend to the foretruck, I take my place late at night in the crow's-nest, We sail the arctic sea, it is plenty light enough, Through the clear atmosphere I stretch around on the wonderful beauty, The enormous masses of ice pass me and.
I believe in those wing'd purposes, And acknowledge red, yellow, white, playing within me, And consider green and violet and the tufted crown intentional, And do not call the tortoise unworthy because she is not something else, And the in the woods never studied the.
Dancing and laughing along the beach came the twenty-ninth bather, The rest did not see her, but she saw them and loved them.The blab of the pave, tires of carts, sluff of boot-soles, talk of the promenaders, The heavy omnibus, the driver with his interrogating thumb, the clank of the shod horses on the granite floor, The snow-sleighs, clinking, shouted jokes, pelts of snow-balls, The hurrahs for.Back to top DayPoems Poem.I do not press my fingers across my mouth, jugar gratis a las maquinas tragamonedas jungle wild I keep as delicate around the bowels as around the head and heart, Copulation is no more rank to me than death.If you tire, give me both burdens, and rest the chuff of your hand on my hip, And in due time you shall repay the same service to me, For after we start we never lie by again.(This day I am jetting the stuff of far more arrogant republics.) To any one dying, thither I speed and twist the knob of the door.Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation.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.I am he attesting sympathy, (Shall I make my list of things in the house and skip the house that supports trucos de la ruleta del casino 40 casillas them?) I am not the poet of goodness only, I do not decline to be the poet of wickedness also.Quivering me to a new identity, Flames and ether making a rush for my veins, Treacherous tip of me reaching and crowding to help them, My flesh and blood playing out lightning to strike what is hardly different from myself, On all sides prurient provokers.This hour I tell things in confidence, I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you.
The black ship mail'd with iron, her mighty guns in her turrets-but the pluck of the captain and engineers?
Did it make you ache so, leaving me?
Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!Why should I wish to see God better than this day?And to those themselves who sank in the sea!My voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach, With the twirl of my tongue I encompass worlds and volumes of worlds.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.Well I have, for the Fourth-month showers have, and the mica on the side of a rock has.It cannot fall the young man who died and was buried, Nor the young woman who died and was put by his side, Nor the little child that peep'd in at the door, and then drew back and was never seen again, Nor the old.I am enamour'd of growing out-doors, Of men that live among cattle or taste of the ocean or woods, Of the builders and steerers of ships and the wielders of axes and mauls, and the drivers of horses, I can eat and sleep with them.