Walt Whitman: Song of Myself Walt Whitman: Song of Myself

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I am he attesting sympathy, Shall I make my list of things in the house and skip the Norges beste dating app that supports them? And to all generals that lost engagements, and all overcome heroes!

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I know I am august, I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself or be understood, I see that the elementary laws never apologize, I reckon I behave no prouder than the level I plant my house by, after all.

The earth by the sky staid with, the daily close of their junction, The heav'd challenge from the east that moment over my head, The mocking taunt, See then whether you shall be master! Broad muscular fields, branches of live oak, loving lounger in my winding paths, it shall be you!

They were the glory of the race of rangers, Matchless with horse, rifle, song, supper, courtship, Large, turbulent, generous, handsome, proud, and affectionate, Bearded, sunburnt, drest in the free costume of hunters, Not a single one over thirty years of age.

Blacksmiths with grimed and hairy chests environ the anvil, Each has his main-sledge, they are all out, there is a great heat in the fire. There was never any more inception than there is now, Nor any more youth or age than there is now, And will never be any more perfection than there is now, Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.

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 emit, nor the cause of the friendship I take again.

Did you guess the celestial laws are yet to be work'd over and rectified? Hurrah for positive science! At eleven o'clock began the burning of the bodies; That is the tale of the murder of the four hundred and twelve young men.

It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life. Our frigate takes fire, The other asks if we demand quarter?

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I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven. Do you take it I would Matchmaking muslim singapore Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees!

And the numberless unknown heroes equal to the greatest heroes known! Tenderly will I use you curling grass, It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men, It may be if I had known them I would have loved them, It may Norges beste dating app you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out of their mothers' laps, And here you are the mothers' laps.

I accept Reality and dare not question it, Materialism first and last imbuing. Distant and dead resuscitate, They show as the dial or move as the hands of me, I am the clock myself.

I take part, I see and hear the whole, The cries, curses, roar, the plaudits for well-aim'd shots, The ambulanza 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 whizz of limbs, heads, stone, wood, iron, high in the air.

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I hasten to inform him or her it is just as lucky to die, and I know it. The tops alone second the fire of this little battery, especially the main-top, They hold out bravely during the whole of the action. I but use you a minute, then I resign you, stallion, Why do I need your paces when I myself out-gallop them?

O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues, And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing. And to those themselves who sank in the sea!

To elaborate is no avail, learn'd and unlearn'd feel that it is so. Partaker of influx and efflux I, extoller of hate and conciliation, Extoller of amies and those that sleep in each others' arms. 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?

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.

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If our colors are struck and the fighting done? This hour I tell things in confidence, I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you. My brain it shall be your occult convolutions!

A word of the faith that never balks, Here or henceforward it is all the same to me, I accept Time absolutely.

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And to those whose war-vessels sank in the sea! I am a free companion, I bivouac by invading watchfires, I turn the bridgroom out of bed and stay with the bride myself, I tighten her all night to my thighs and lips. 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.

Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river! Sprouts take and accumulate, stand by the curb prolific and vital, Landscapes projected masculine, full-sized and golden.

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