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My face rubs to the hunter's face when he lies down alone in his blanket, The driver thinking of me does not mind the jolt of his wagon, The young mother and old mother comprehend me, The girl and the wife rest the needle.We closed with him, the yards entangled, the cannon touch'd, My captain lash'd fast with his own hands.The runaway slave came to my house and stopt outside, I heard his motions crackling the twigs of the woodpile, Through the swung half-door of the kitchen I saw him limpsy and weak, And went where he sat on a log and led him.49 And as to you Death, and you bitter hug of mortality, it is idle to try to alarm.Do I astonish more than they?I accept Reality and dare not question it, Materialism first and last imbuing.What is commonest, cheapest, nearest, easiest, is Me, Me going in for my chances, spending for vast returns, Adorning myself to bestow myself on the first that will take me, Not asking the sky to come down to my good will, Scattering it freely forever.The beards of the young men glisten'd with wet, it ran complete ielts bands 4-5 student's book pdf from their long hair, Little streams pass'd all over their bodies.Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon just tinged with blue!My ties and ballasts leave me, my elbows rest in sea-gaps, I skirt sierras, my palms cover continents, I am afoot with my vision.I understand the large hearts of heroes, The courage of present times and all times, How the skipper saw the crowded and rudderless wreck of the steamship, and Death chasing it up and down the storm, How he knuckled tight and gave not back.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.Showing the best and dividing it from the worst age vexes age, Knowing the perfect fitness and equanimity of things, while they discuss I am silent, and go bathe and admire myself.The editor of DayPoems will gladly assist in putting interested parties in contact with the authors.And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.Old age superbly rising!I am sorry for you, they are not murderous or jealous upon me, All has been gentle with me, I keep no account with lamentation, (What have I to do with lamentation?) I am an acme of things accomplish'd, and I an encloser of things.


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