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Do you take it I would astonish?
Will you speak before I am gone?I am enamour'd of growing out-doors, Of men that live among cattle or taste of the ocean or woods, Of the builders and steerers of ships and the wielders of axes and mauls, and the drivers of horses, I can eat and sleep with them.I but use you a minute, then I resign you, stallion, Why do I need your paces when I myself out-gallop them?Rise after rise bow the phantoms behind me, Afar down I see the huge first Nothing, I know I was even there, I waited unseen and always, and slept through the lethargic mist, And took my time, and took no hurt from the fetid carbon.I do not know what it is any more than.
I know I am deathless, I know this orbit of mine cannot be swept by a carpenter's compass, I know I shall not pass like jeux de rencontre d'amour en ligne a child's carlacue cut with a burnt stick at night.




Dancing and laughing along the beach came the twenty-ninth bather, The rest did not see her, but she saw them and loved them.Why should I pray?28 Is this then a touch?It is not far, it is within reach, Perhaps annonce coquin gratuite you have been on it since you were born and did not know, Perhaps it is everywhere on water and on land.This is the city and I am one of the citizens, Whatever interests the rest interests me, politics, wars, markets, newspapers, schools, The mayor and councils, banks, tariffs, steamships, factories, stocks, stores, real estate and personal estate.Cycles ferried my cradle, rowing and rowing like cheerful boatmen, For room to me stars kept aside in their own rings, They sent influences to look after what was to hold.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.Who wishes to walk with me?The blab of the pave, tires of carts, sluff of boot-soles, talk of the promenaders, The heavy omnibus, the driver with his interrogating thumb, the clank of the shod horses on the granite floor, The snow-sleighs, clinking, shouted jokes, pelts of snow-balls, The hurrahs for.Ever the hard unsunk ground, Ever the eaters and drinkers, ever the upward and downward sun, ever the air and the ceaseless tides, Ever myself and my neighbors, refreshing, wicked, real, Ever the old inexplicable query, ever that thorn'd thumb, that breath of itches and.


[L_RANDNUM-10-999]