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Blue foundation sweep of days скачать

blue foundation sweep of days скачать

Who wishes to walk with me?
Night of south winds-night of the large few stars!
Not a cholera patient lies at the last gasp but I also lie at the last gasp, My face is ash-color'd, my sinews gnarl, away from me people retreat.I am the hounded slave, I wince at the bite of the dogs, Hell and amc coupon codes tickets despair are upon me, crack and again crack the marksmen, I clutch the rails of the fence, my gore dribs, thinn'd with the ooze of my skin, I fall.Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation.Somehow I have been stunn'd.The sky up there-yet here or next door, or across the way?6 A child said What is the grass?Till we find where the sly one hides and bring him forth, Ever love, ever the sobbing liquid of life, Ever the bandage under the chin, ever the trestles of death.All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.I do not know it-it is without name-it is a word unsaid, It is not in any dictionary, utterance, symbol.11 Twenty-eight young men bathe by the shore, Twenty-eight young men and all so friendly; Twenty-eight years of womanly life and all so lonesome.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.
21 I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul, The pleasures of heaven are with me and the pains of hell are with me, The first I graft and increase upon myself, the latter I translate into new.
I do not snivel that snivel the world over, That months are vacuums and the ground but wallow and filth.

Oxen that rattle the yoke and chain or halt in the leafy shade, what is that you express in your eyes?List to the yarn, as my grandmother's father the sailor told it.(Round and round we go, all of us, and ever come back thither If nothing lay more develop'd the quahaug in its callous shell were enough.Of the turbid pool that lies in the autumn forest, Of the moon that descends the steeps of the soughing twilight, Toss, sparkles of day and dusk-toss on the black papa john's canada promo code stems that decay in the muck, Toss to the moaning gibberish of the dry limbs.Mix'd tussled hay of head, beard, brawn, it shall be you!Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.We have thus far exhausted trillions of winters and summers, There are trillions ahead, and trillions ahead of them.This minute that comes to me over the past decillions, There is no better than it and now.
My brain it shall be your occult convolutions!