And I say to mankind, Be not curious about God, For I who am curious about each am not curious about God, (No array of terms can say how much I am at peace about God and about death.) I hear and behold God.
The tops alone second the fire of this little battery, especially the main-top, They hold out bravely during the whole of the action.
A tenor large and fresh as the creation fills me, The orbic flex of his mouth is pouring and filling me full.It is not chaos or death-it is form, union, plan-it is eternal life-it is Happiness.O manhood, balanced, florid and full.(This day I am jetting the stuff of far more arrogant republics.) To any one dying, thither I speed and twist the knob of the door.We had receiv'd some eighteen pound shots under the water, On our lower-gun-deck two large pieces had burst at the first fire, killing all gjensidig nytte kontaktannonser sex date around and blowing up overhead.Are you the President?Why should I pray?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.Parting track'd by arriving, perpetual payment of perpetual loan, Rich showering rain, and recompense richer afterward.I find one side a balance and the antipedal side a balance, Soft doctrine as steady help as stable doctrine, Thoughts and deeds of the present our rouse and early start.Turn the bed-clothes toward the foot of the bed, Let the physician and the priest go home.And what do you think has become of the women and children?Press close bare-bosom'd night-press close magnetic nourishing night!I understand the large hearts of heroes, The courage of present times and all times, How the skipper saw the crowded and rudderless wreck of the steamship, and Death chasing it up and down the storm, How he knuckled tight and gave not back.The suicide sprawls on the bloody floor of the bedroom, I witness the corpse with its dabbled hair, I note where the pistol has fallen.
Loafe with me on the grass, loose the stop from your throat, Not words, not music or rhyme I want, not custom or lecture, not even the best, Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.
The Yankee clipper is under her sky-sails, she cuts the sparkle and scud, My eyes settle the land, I bend at her prow or shout joyously from the deck.