I teach straying from me, yet who can stray from me?
35 Would you hear of an old-time sea-fight?
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Askers embody themselves in me and I am embodied in them, I project my hat, sit shame-faced, and beg.That I could look with a separate look on my own crucifixion and bloody crowning.(The moth and the fish-eggs are in their place, The bright suns I see and the dark suns I cannot see are in their place, The palpable is in its place and the impalpable is in its place.) 17 These are really the thoughts.Somehow I have been stunn'd.What are you doing?And what do you think has become of the women and children?Still nodding night-mad naked summer night.In the houses the dishes and fare and furniture-but the host and hostess, and the look out of their eyes?The clock indicates the moment-but what does eternity indicate?Creeds and schools in abeyance, Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten, I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard, Nature without check with original energy.I am he attesting sympathy, (Shall I make 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.Dancing and laughing along the beach came the twenty-ninth bather, The rest did not see her, but she saw them and loved them.
If I worship one thing more than another it shall be the spread of my own body, or any part of it, Translucent mould of me it shall be you!
My voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach, With the twirl of my tongue I encompass worlds and volumes of worlds.
Why should I pray?This day before dawn I ascended a hill and look'd at the crowded heaven, And I said to my spirit When we liv i lyx spelautomater till salu 100 become the enfolders of those orbs, and the pleasure and knowledge of every thing in them, shall we be fill'd and satisfied then?Embody all presences outlaw'd or suffering, See myself in prison shaped like another man, And feel the dull unintermitted pain.Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon just tinged with blue!Sit a while dear son, Here are biscuits to eat and here is milk to drink, But as soon as you sleep and renew yourself in sweet clothes, I kiss you with a good-by kiss and open the gate for your egress hence.List to the yarn, as my grandmother's father the sailor told it.Urge and urge and urge, Always the procreant urge of the world.
In all people I see myself, none more and not one a barley-corn less, And the good or bad I say of myself I say of them.
Is he some Southwesterner rais'd out-doors?