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Night of south winds-night of the large few stars!
Well I have, for the Fourth-month showers have, and the mica on the side of a rock has.
This is the press of a bashful hand, this the float and odor of hair, This the touch of my lips to yours, this the murmur of yearning, This the far-off depth and height reflecting my own face, This the thoughtful merge of myself, and.Will you speak before I am gone?36 Stretch'd and still lies the midnight, Two great hulls motionless on the breast of the darkness, Our vessel riddled and slowly sinking, preparations to pass to the one we have conquer'd, The captain on the quarter-deck coldly giving his orders through a countenance white.Breast that presses against other breasts it shall be you!To behold the day-break!His nostrils dilate as my heels embrace him, His well-built limbs tremble with pleasure as we race around and return.Let it all out!I am he that walks with the tender and growing night, I call to the earth and sea half-held by the night.I ascend from the moon, I ascend from the night, I perceive that the ghastly glimmer is noonday sunbeams reflected, And debouch to the steady and central from the offspring great or small.In vain the speeding or shyness, In vain the plutonic rocks send their gratis spilleautomat bare for moro skyld old heat against my approach, In vain the mastodon retreats beneath its own powder'd bones, In vain objects stand leagues off and assume manifold shapes, In vain the ocean settling in hollows.And proceed to fill my next fold of the future.I pass death with the dying and birth with the new-wash'd babe, and am not contain'd between my hat and boots, And peruse manifold objects, no two alike and every one good, The earth good and the stars good, and their adjuncts all good.The soldier camp'd or upon the march is mine, On the night ere the pending battle many seek me, and I do not fail them, On that solemn night (it may be their last) those that know me seek.I am satisfied-I see, dance, laugh, sing; As the hugging and loving bed-fellow sleeps at my side through the night, and withdraws at the peep of the day with stealthy tread, Leaving me baskets cover'd with white towels swelling the house with their plenty, Shall.
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Askers embody themselves in me and I am embodied in them, I project my hat, sit shame-faced, and beg.