I am the hounded slave, I wince at the bite of juegos de casino gratis online tragamonedas tipo the dogs, Hell and despair are upon me, crack and again crack the marksmen, I clutch the rails of the fence, my gore dribs, thinn'd with the ooze of my skin, I fall.
Unscrew the locks from the doors!
In me the caresser of life wherever moving, backward as well as forward sluing, To niches aside and junior bending, not a person or object missing, Absorbing all to myself and for this song.Were mankind murderous or jealous upon you, my brother, my sister?13 The negro holds firmly the reins of his four horses, the block swags underneath on its tied-over chain, The negro that drives the long dray of the stone-yard, steady and tall he stands pois'd on one leg on the string-piece, His blue shirt exposes.My head slues round on my neck, Music rolls, but not from the organ, Folks are around me, but they are no household of mine.Have you practis'd so long to learn to read?The authors of poetry and other material appearing on DayPoems retain full rights to their work.It shall be you!I visit the orchards of spheres and look at the product, And look at quintillions ripen'd and look at quintillions green.
All forces have been steadily employ'd to complete and delight me, Now on this spot I stand with my robust soul.
25 Dazzling and tremendous how quick the sun-rise would kill me, If I could not now and always send sun-rise out.
They were the glory of the race of rangers, Matchless with horse, rifle, song, supper, courtship, Large, turbulent, generous, handsome, proud, and affectionate, Bearded, sunburnt, drest in the free costume of hunters, Not a single one over thirty years of age.
Hands I have taken, face I have kiss'd, mortal I have ever touch'd, it shall be you.
From the rocks of the river, swinging and chirping over my head, Calling my name from flower-beds, vines, tangled underbrush, Lighting on every moment of my life, Bussing my body with soft balsamic busses, Noiselessly passing handfuls out of their hearts and giving them.
23 Endless unfolding of words of ages!What is a man anyhow?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.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.29 Blind loving wrestling touch, sheath'd hooded sharp-tooth'd touch!24 Walt Whitman, a kosmos, of Manhattan the son, Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating, drinking and breeding, No sentimentalist, no stander above men and women or apart from them, No more modest than immodest.This minute that comes to me over the past decillions, There is no better than it and now.