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A word of the faith that never balks, Here or henceforward it is all the same to me, I accept Time absolutely.
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.
What blurt is this about virtue and about vice?51 The past and present wilt-I have fill'd them, emptied them.Now I laugh content, for I hear the voice of my little captain, We have not struck, he composedly cries, we have just begun our part of the fighting.Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord, A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt, Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose?The saints and sages in history-but you yourself?20 Who goes there?Night of south winds-night of the large few stars!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.The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the distillation, it is odorless, It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it, I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked, I am mad.What is commonest, cheapest, nearest, easiest, is Me, Me going in for my chances, spending for vast returns, Adorning myself to bestow myself on the first that will take me, Not asking the sky to come down to my good will, Scattering it freely forever.Have you reckon'd a thousand acres much?My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air, Born here spilleautomater gratis uten registrering spill ingen nedlasting of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same, I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin, Hoping to cease not till death.25 Dazzling and tremendous how quick the sun-rise would kill me, If I could not now and always send sun-rise out.Who will soonest be through with his supper?14 The wild gander leads his flock through the cool night, Ya-honk he says, and sounds it down to me like an invitation, The pert may suppose it meaningless, but I listening close, Find its purpose and place up there toward the wintry sky.Turn the bed-clothes toward the foot of the bed, Let the physician and the priest go home.If you are like us, you have strong feelings about poetry, and about each poem you read.
Which of the young men does she like the best?
The runaway slave came to my house and stopt outside, I heard his motions crackling the twigs of the woodpile, Through the swung half-door of the kitchen I saw him limpsy and weak, And went where he sat on a log and led him.