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I visit the orchards of spheres and look at the product, And look at quintillions ripen'd and look at quintillions green.
Did you guess the celestial laws are yet to be work'd over and rectified?
Earth of departed sunset-earth of the mountains misty-topt!
Partaker of influx and efflux I, extoller of hate and conciliation, Extoller of amies and those that sleep in each others' arms.I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.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.Click here to learn more about how you can keep DayPoems on the Web.Magnifying and applying come I, Outbidding at the start the old cautious hucksters, Taking myself the exact dimensions of Jehovah, Lithographing Kronos, Zeus his son, and Hercules his grandson, Buying drafts of Osiris, Isis, Belus, Brahma, Buddha, In my portfolio placing Manito loose, Allah.Again gurgles the mouth of my dying general, he furiously waves with his hand, He gasps lost world of tambun package 2015 through the clot sisoft sandra 2011 lite Mind not me-mind-the entrenchments.
Again the long roll of the drummers, Again the attacking cannon, mortars, Again to my listening ears the cannon responsive.
Something it swings on more than the earth I swing on, To it the creation is the friend whose embracing awakes.
I do not press my fingers across my mouth, I keep as delicate around the bowels as around the head and heart, Copulation is no more rank to me than death.
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.
Distant and dead resuscitate, They show as the dial or move as the hands of me, I am the clock myself.
Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.
One of that centripetal and centrifugal gang I turn and talk like man leaving charges before a journey.All forces have been steadily employ'd to complete and delight me, Now on this spot I stand with my robust soul.The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the distillation, it is odorless, It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it, I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked, I am mad.I know I am deathless, I know this orbit of mine cannot be swept by a carpenter's compass, I know I shall not pass like a child's carlacue cut with a burnt stick at night.Or sailor from the sea?11 Twenty-eight young men bathe by the shore, Twenty-eight young men and all so friendly; Twenty-eight years of womanly life and all so lonesome.Awakened Consciousness have told about such cosmic phenomenon.Long enough have you dream'd contemptible dreams, Now I wash the gum from your eyes, You must habit yourself to the dazzle of the light and of every moment of your life.Within the to-and-fro movement of life everything returns to its beginning or to its end.Mix'd tussled hay of head, beard, brawn, it shall be you!Comment on this poem, any poem, DayPoems, other poetry places or the art of poetry at DayPoems Feedback.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.Not I, not any one else can travel that road for you, You must travel it for yourself.