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My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air, Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and kom og vind spil dk their parents the same, I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin, Hoping to cease not till death.
Distant and dead resuscitate, They show as the dial or move as the hands of me, I am the clock myself.
Come my children, Come my boys and girls, my women, household and intimates, Now the performer launches his nerve, he has pass'd his prelude on the reeds within.
My feet strike an apex of the apices of the stairs, On every step bunches of ages, and larger bunches between the steps, All below duly travel'd, and still I mount and mount.
This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers, Darker than the colorless beards of old men, Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.Whoever degrades another degrades me, And whatever is done or said returns at last.(Only what proves itself to every man and woman is so, Only what nobody denies.) A minute and a drop of me settle my brain, I believe the soggy clods shall become lovers and lamps, And a compend of compends is the meat.48 I have said that the soul is not more than the body, And I have said that the body is not more than the soul, And nothing, not God, is greater to one than one's self is, And whoever walks a furlong without sympathy.Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen, Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn.At eleven o'clock began the burning of the bodies; That is the tale of the murder of the four hundred and twelve young men.19 This is the meal equally set, this the meat for natural hunger, It is for the wicked just same as the righteous, I make appointments with all, I will not have a single person slighted or left away, The kept-woman, sponger, thief, are hereby.Which of the young men does she like the best?No shutter'd room or school can commune with me, But roughs and little children better than they.Press close bare-bosom'd night-press close magnetic nourishing night!Unscrew the locks from the doors!
I find I incorporate gneiss, coal, long-threaded moss, fruits, grains, esculent roots, And am stucco'd with quadrupeds and birds all over, And have distanced what is behind me for good reasons, But call any thing back again when I desire.
Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am, Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, unitary, Looks down, is erect, or bends an arm on an impalpable certain rest, Looking with side-curved head curious what will come next, Both in and out of the game.
You sweaty brooks and dews it shall be you!It cannot fall the young man who died and was buried, Nor the young woman who died and was put by his side, Nor the little child that peep'd in at the door, and then drew back and was never seen again, Nor the old.Your milky stream pale strippings of my life!Why should I venerate and be ceremonious?Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues, And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing.Eleves, I salute you!In at the conquer'd doors they crowd!