46 I know I have the best of time and space, and was never measured and never will be measured.
That I could forget the mockers and insults!Toward twelve there in the beams of the moon they surrender.Be at peace bloody flukes of doubters and sullen mopers, I take my place among you as much as among any, The past is the push of you, me, all, precisely the same, And what is yet untried and afterward is for you, me, all.I am he attesting sympathy, (Shall I make hun unngår øyekontakt under sex my list of things in the house and skip the house that supports them?) I am not the poet of goodness only, I do not decline to be the poet of wickedness also.In at the conquer'd doors they crowd!What have you to confide to me?I visit the orchards of spheres and look at the product, And look at quintillions ripen'd and look at quintillions green.And to those whose war-vessels sank in the sea!Continue your annotations, continue your questionings.Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged, Missing me one place search another, I stop somewhere waiting for you.The little light fades the immense and diaphanous shadows, The air tastes good to my palate.My lovers suffocate me, Crowding my lips, thick in the pores of my skin, Jostling me through streets and public halls, coming naked to me at night, Crying by day, Ahoy!I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.
I remember now, I resume the overstaid fraction, The grave of rock multiplies what has been confided to it, or to any graves, Corpses rise, gashes heal, fastenings roll from.
Births have brought us richness and variety, And other births will bring us richness and variety.Do you see O my brothers and sisters?My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this sex offender søk volusia county soil, this air, Born here 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.The well-taken photographs-but your wife or friend close and solid in your arms?The Yankee clipper is under her sky-sails, she cuts the sparkle and scud, My eyes settle the land, I bend at her prow or shout joyously from the deck.Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation.Do you guess I have some intricate purpose?45 O span of youth!Have you heard that it was good to gain the day?Having pried through the strata, analyzed to a hair, counsel'd with doctors and calculated close, I find no sweeter fat than sticks to my own bones.
The black ship mail'd with iron, her mighty guns in her turrets-but the pluck lokale slags strømsgodset of the captain and engineers?