The transit to and from the magazine is now stopt by the sentinels, They see so many strange faces they do not know whom to trust.
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.I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.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.Categorias Populares, ayuda y Tutoriales, stat Semanal, facebook Identi.Very well then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes.) I concentrate toward them that are nigh, I wait on the door-slab.One world is aware and by far the largest to me, and that is myself, And whether I come to my own to-day or in ten thousand or ten million years, I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness I can wait.Wrench'd and sweaty-calm and cool then my body becomes, I sleep-I sleep long.Smile, for your lover comes.I hear the chorus, it is a grand opera, Ah this indeed is music-this suits.
Will you speak before I am gone?
Hefts of the moving world at innocent gambols silently rising freshly exuding, Scooting obliquely high and low.I hear the train'd soprano (what work with hers is this?) The orchestra whirls me wider than Uranus flies, It wrenches such ardors from me I did not know I possess'd them, It sails me, I dab with bare feet, they are lick'd by the.Earth of the limpid gray of clouds brighter and clearer for my sake!Behavior lawless as snow-flakes, words simple as grass, uncomb'd head, laughter, and naivete, Slow-stepping feet, common features, common modes and emanations, They descend in new forms from the tips of his fingers, They are wafted with the odor of his body or breath, they fly.This day before dawn I ascended a hill and look'd at the crowded heaven, And I said to my spirit When we become the enfolders of those orbs, and the pleasure and knowledge of every thing in them, shall we be fill'd and satisfied then?Well I have, for the Fourth-month showers have, and the mica on the side of a rock has.The sharp-hoof'd moose of the north, the cat on the house-sill, the chickadee, the prairie-dog, The litter of the grunting sow as they tug at her teats, The brood of the turkey-hen and she with her half-spread wings, I see in them and myself the.It is not chaos or death-it is form, union, plan-it is eternal life-it is Happiness.
44 It is time to explain myself-let us stand.