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 stems that decay in the muck, Toss to the moaning gibberish of the dry limbs. Embody all presences outlaw'd or suffering, See myself in prison shaped like another man, And feel the dull unintermitted pain. Be at peace bloody flukes of doubters and sullen mopers

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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. 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 help myself to material and immaterial, No guard can shut me off, no law prevent. The young mechanic is closest to me, he knows me well, The woodman that takes his axe and jug with him shall take me with him all day, The farm-boy ploughing in the field feels good at the sound of my voice, In vessels that. I anchor my ship for a little while only, My messengers continually cruise away or bring their returns. Behold, I do not give lectures or a little charity, When I give I give myself.

Smile O voluptuous cool-breath'd earth! We have thus far exhausted trillions of winters and summers, There are trillions ahead, and trillions ahead of them. They do not sweat and whine about their condition, They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins, They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God, Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania. Before I was born out of my mother generations guided me, My embryo has never been torpid, nothing could overlay. Again the long roll of the drummers, Again the attacking cannon, mortars, Again to my listening ears the cannon responsive. I do not ask who you are, that is not important to me, You can do nothing and be nothing but what I will infold you. One of that centripetal and centrifugal gang I turn and talk like man leaving charges before a journey. 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. 33 Space and Time!



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I chant the chant of dilation or pride, We have had ducking and deprecating about enough, I show that size is only development. Do you guess I have some intricate purpose? I plead for my brothers and sisters. Every condition promulges not only itself, it promulges what grows after and out of itself, And the dark hush promulges as much as any. Your milky stream pale strippings of my life! Your facts are useful, and yet they are not my dwelling, I but enter by them to an area of my dwelling. This is the grass that grows wherever the land is and the water is, This the common air that bathes the globe.