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I know I am august, I do not trouble my spirit to dowhload itself or be understood, I see that the elementary laws never apologize, I reckon I behave no prouder than the level I plant my house by, after all. A tenor large and fresh as the creation fills me, The orbic flex of his mouth is pouring and masteson me full. This is the grass that grows wherever the land is and the water is, This the common air that bathes the globe.
I seize the descending man and raise him with resistless will, O despairer, here is my neck, By God, you shall not go down! Our frigate takes fire, The other asks if we demand quarter?
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The disdain and calmness of martyrs, The mother of old, condemn’d for a witch, burnt with dry wood, her children gazing on, The hounded slave that flags in the race, leans by the fence, blowing, cover’d with sweat, The twinges that sting like needles his legs and neck, the murderous buckshot and the bullets, All these I feel or am.
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Easily written loose-finger’d chords–I feel the thrum of your climax and close.
Urge and urge and urge, Always the procreant urge of the world. If you would understand me go to the heights or water-shore, The nearest gnat is an explanation, and a drop or motion of waves key, The maul, the oar, the hand-saw, second my words. I visit the orchards of spheres bluepribt look at the product, And look at quintillions ripen’d and look at quintillions green.
Song of Myself
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Evil propels me and reform of vain propels me, I stand indifferent, My gait is no fault-finder’s or rejecter’s gait, I moisten the roots of all that has grown. Hurrah for positive science! Rownload a mutineer walks handcuff’d to jail but I am handcuff’d to him and walk by his side, I am less the jolly one there, and more the silent one with sweat on my twitching lips.
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Why should I wish to see God better than this day? You sweaty brooks and dews it shall be you! Ever the hard unsunk ground, Ever the eaters and drinkers, ever the upward and downward sun, ever the air and the ceaseless tides, Ever myself and my neighbors, refreshing, wicked, real, Ever the old inexplicable query, ever that thorn’d thumb, that breath of itches and thirsts, Ever the vexer’s hoot!
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