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I accept Reality and dare not question it, Materialism first and last imbuing.
Old age superbly rising!
The black ship mail'd with iron, her mighty guns in her turrets-but the pluck of the captain and engineers?What behaved well in the past or behaves well to-day is not such wonder, The wonder is always and always how there can be a mean man or an infidel.The beards of the young men glisten'd with wet, it ran from their amsterdams casino spel gratis long hair, Little streams pass'd all over their bodies.Your milky stream pale strippings of my life!I also say it is good to fall, battles are lost in the same spirit in which they are won.By, walt Whitman, i celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.If you tire, give me both burdens, and rest the chuff of your hand on my hip, And in due time you shall repay the same service to me, For after we start we never lie by again.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.It is not far, it is within reach, Perhaps you have been on it since you were born and did not know, Perhaps it is everywhere on water and on land.I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun, I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags.The well-taken photographs-but your wife or friend close and solid in your arms?Or sailor from the sea?Long live exact demonstration!From the cinder-strew'd threshold I follow their movements, The lithe sheer of their waists plays even with their massive arms, Overhand the hammers swing, overhand so slow, overhand so sure, They do not hasten, each man hits in his place.Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems, You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions of suns left you shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look.




Welcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of any man hearty and clean, Not an inch nor a particle of an inch is vile, and none shall be less familiar than the rest.Fighting at sun-down, fighting at dark, Ten o'clock at night, the full moon well up, our leaks on the gain, and five feet of water reported, The master-at-arms loosing the prisoners confined in the after-hold to give them a chance for themselves.Sprouts take and accumulate, stand by the curb prolific and vital, Landscapes projected masculine, full-sized and golden.I speak the pass-word primeval, I give the sign of democracy, By God!And my spirit said No, we but level that lift to pass and continue beyond.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?


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