The youngster and the red-faced girl turn aside up the bushy hill, I peeringly view them from the top.
Will you prove already too late?
52 The spotted hawk swoops by and accuses me, he complains of my gab and my loitering.I do not know it-it is without name-it is a word unsaid, It is not in any dictionary, utterance, symbol.The black ship mail'd with iron, her gambling spillet med quarters mighty guns in her turrets-but the pluck of the captain and engineers?A gigantic beauty of a stallion, fresh and responsive to my caresses, Head high in the forehead, wide between the ears, Limbs glossy and supple, tail dusting the ground, Eyes full of sparkling wickedness, ears finely cut, flexibly moving.None obey'd the command to kneel, Some made a mad and helpless rush, some stood stark and straight, A few fell at once, shot in the temple or heart, the living and dead lay together, The maim'd and mangled dug in the dirt, the new-comers.List to the yarn, as my grandmother's father the sailor told it.Not a cholera patient lies at the last spilleautomater til gratis nedlasting cap gasp but I also lie at the last gasp, My face is ash-color'd, my sinews gnarl, away from me people retreat.47 I am the teacher of athletes, He that by me spreads a wider breast than my own proves the width of my own, He most honors my style who learns under it to destroy the teacher.Have you reckon'd the earth much?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.Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?
I chant the chant of dilation or pride, We have had ducking and deprecating about enough, I show that size is only development.
You seem to look for something at my hands, Say, old top-knot, what do you want?
I accept Reality and dare not question it, Materialism first and last imbuing.The soldier camp'd or upon the march is mine, On the night ere the pending battle many seek me, and I do not fail them, On that solemn night (it may be their last) those that know me seek.Only three guns are in use, One is directed by the captain himself against the enemy's main-mast, Two well serv'd with grape and canister silence his musketry and clear his decks.Something I cannot see puts upward libidinous prongs, Seas of bright juice suffuse heaven.I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.