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My ties and ballasts leave me, my elbows rest in sea-gaps, I skirt sierras, my palms cover continents, I am afoot with my vision.
Press close bare-bosom'd night-press close magnetic nourishing night!And to all generals that lost engagements, and all overcome heroes!Comment on this poem, any poem, DayPoems, other poetry places or the art of live kasino spill kuponger poetry at DayPoems Feedback.The young men float on their backs, their white bellies bulge to the sun, they do not ask who seizes fast to them, They do not know who puffs and declines with pendant and bending arch, They do not think whom they souse with spray.Serene stands the little captain, He is not hurried, gambling, online poker his voice is neither high nor low, His eyes give more light to us than our battle-lanterns.What have you to confide to me?I take part, I see and hear the whole, The cries, curses, roar, the plaudits for well-aim'd shots, The ambulanza gratis spilleautomat for ipad x 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.48 I have said that the soul is not more than the body, And I have said that the body is not more than the soul, And nothing, not God, is greater to one than one's self is, And whoever walks a furlong without sympathy.Have you heard that it was good to gain the day?Only three guns are in use, One is directed by the captain himself against the enemy's main-mast, Two well serv'd with grape and canister silence his musketry and clear his decks.A tenor large and fresh as the creation fills me, The orbic flex of his mouth is pouring and filling me full.I dote on myself, there is that lot of me and all so luscious, Each moment and whatever happens thrills me with joy, I cannot tell how my ankles bend, nor whence the cause of my faintest wish, Nor the cause of the friendship.I fly those flights of a fluid and swallowing soul, My course runs below the soundings of plummets.Turn the bed-clothes toward the foot of the bed, Let the physician and the priest go home.I see something of God each hour of the twenty-four, and each moment then, In the faces of men and women I see God, and in my own face in the glass, I find letters from God dropt in the street, and every one.I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love, If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.Welcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of any man hearty and clean, Not an inch nor a particle of an inch is vile, and none shall be less familiar than the rest.Easily written loose-finger'd chords-I feel the thrum of your climax and close.Who wishes to walk with me?
Do you see O my brothers and sisters?