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One of the pumps has been shot away, it is generally thought we are sinking.
Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?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.The last scud of day holds back for me, It flings my likeness after the rest and true as any on the shadow'd wilds, It coaxes me to the vapor and the dusk.The black ship mail'd with iron, her mighty guns in her turrets-but the pluck of the captain and engineers?43 I do not despise you priests, all time, the world over, My faith is the greatest of faiths and the least of faiths, Enclosing worship ancient and modern and all between ancient and modern, Believing I shall come again upon the earth after five.I dilate you with tremendous breath, I buoy you up, Every room of the house do I fill with an arm'd force, Lovers of me, bafflers of graves.
That I could forget the mockers and insults!
Even as I stand or sit passing faster than you.
Give me a little time beyond my cuff'd head, slumbers, dreams, gaping, I discover myself on the verge of a usual mistake.In the houses the dishes and fare and furniture-but the host and hostess, and the look out of their eyes?In me the caresser of life wherever moving, backward as well as forward sluing, To niches aside and junior bending, not a person or object missing, Absorbing all to myself and for this song.List to the yarn, as my grandmother's father the sailor told it.Our foe was no sulk in his ship I tell you, (said he His was the surly English pluck, and there is no tougher or truer, tips för spelautomater novoline and never was, and never will be; Along the lower'd eve he came horribly raking.Our frigate takes fire, The other asks if we demand quarter?Sprouts take and accumulate, stand by the curb prolific and vital, Landscapes projected masculine, full-sized and golden.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.You will hardly know who I am or what I mean, But I shall be good health to you nevertheless, And filter and fibre your blood.My tread scares the wood-drake and wood-duck on my distant and day-long ramble, They rise together, they slowly circle around.