Perdita di peso di razorbill, Song of Myself


I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass. Creeds perdita di peso di razorbill schools in abeyance, Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten, I harbor for perdita di peso di razorbill or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard, Nature without check with original energy. Houses and rooms are full of perfumes, the shelves are crowded with perfumes, I breathe the fragrance myself and know it and like it, The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.

Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems? I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the beginning and the end, But I do not talk of the beginning or the end. There was never any more inception than there is now, Nor any more youth or age than there is now, And will never be any more perfection than there is now, Nor any more heaven or lettera di ringraziamento per la perdita di peso than there is now.

Urge and urge and urge, Always the procreant urge of the world. Out of the dimness opposite equals advance, always substance and increase, always sex, Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed of life.

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Sure as the most certain sure, plumb in the uprights, well entretied, braced in the beams, Stout as a horse, affectionate, haughty, electrical, I and this mystery here we stand. Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen, Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn. Showing the best and dividing it from the worst age vexes age, Knowing the perfect fitness and equanimity of things, while they discuss I am silent, and go bathe and admire myself.

Backward I perdita di peso di razorbill in my own days where I sweated through fog with linguists and contenders, I have no mockings or arguments, I witness and wait. I believe in you my soul, the other I am must not abase itself to you, And you must not be abased to the other. Loafe with me on the grass, loose the stop perdita di peso di razorbill 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 valvèd voice.

Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic, And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones, Growing among black folks as among white, Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the same.

And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves. 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. What do you think has become of the young and old men?

And what do you think has become of the women and children? All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier. Has any one supposed it lucky to be born? I am not an earth nor an adjunct of an earth, I am the mate and companion of people, all just as immortal and fathomless as myself, They do not know how immortal, but I know.

These Witches Dont Burn - sillyboy.it

The little one sleeps in its cradle, I lift the gauze and look a long time, and silently brush away flies with my hand. The youngster and the red-faced girl turn aside up the bushy hill, I peeringly view them from the top. 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.

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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. She owns the fine house by the rise of the bank, She hides handsome and richly drest aft the blinds of the window. Which of the young men does she like the best? Ah the homeliest of them is beautiful to her. Where are you off to, lady?

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Dancing and laughing along the beach came the twenty-ninth bather, The rest did not see her, but she saw them and loved them. The young men float on their backs, their white bellies bulge to the sun, they do not ask who seizes fast to them, They do not know who puffs and declines with pendant and bending arch, They do not think whom they souse with spray.

The butcher-boy puts off his killing-clothes, or sharpens his knife at the stall in the market, I loiter enjoying his repartee and his shuffle and break-down. Blacksmiths with grimed and hairy chests environ the anvil, Each has his main-sledge, they are perdita di peso di razorbill out, there is a great heat in the fire. I behold the picturesque giant and love him, and I do not stop there, I go with the team also.

In me the caresser of life wherever moving, backward as well as perdita di peso di razorbill perdita di peso di razorbill, To niches aside and junior bending, not a person or object missing, Absorbing all to myself and for this song.

Oxen that rattle the yoke and chain or halt in the leafy shade, what is that you express in your eyes? It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life. My tread scares the wood-drake and wood-duck on my distant and day-long ramble, They rise together, they slowly circle around.

The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections, They scorn the best I can do to relate them. What is commonest, cheapest, nearest, easiest, is Me, Me going in for my chances, spending for vast returns, Adorning myself to bestow myself on the first that will take me, Not asking the sky to come down to my good will, Scattering it freely forever.

I resist any thing better than my own diversity, Breathe the air but leave plenty after me, And am not stuck up, and am in my place. This is the grass that grows wherever the land is and the water is, This the common air that bathes the globe.

Have you heard that it was good to gain the day? I also say it is good to fall, battles are lost in the same spirit in which they are won. I beat and pound for the dead, I blow through my embouchures my loudest and gayest for them.

Birdwatcher in trasferta: Isle of May Come ribadito più volte su questo blog, lo scopo dei vari post è quello di far conoscere e far apprezzare quanto di interessante la natura offre nei territori lariani e nelle zone limitrofe.

And to those whose war-vessels sank in the sea! And to those themselves who sank in the sea! And to all generals that lost engagements, and all overcome heroes! This is the press of a bashful hand, this the float and odor of hair, This the touch of my lips to yours, this the murmur of yearning, This the far-off depth and height reflecting my own face, This the thoughtful merge of myself, and the outlet again.

Do you guess I have some intricate purpose? Well I have, for the Fourth-month showers have, and perdita di peso di razorbill mica on the side of a rock has. Do you take it I would astonish? Does the daylight astonish? Do I astonish more than they? This hour I tell things in confidence, I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you.

Who goes there? What is a man anyhow?

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All I mark as my own you shall offset it with your own, Else it were time lost listening to me. I do not snivel that snivel the world over, That months are vacuums and the ground but wallow and filth.

Why should I pray? I know I am solid and sound, To me the converging objects perdita di peso di razorbill the universe perpetually flow, All are written to me, and I must get what the writing means.

I know I am august, I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself or be understood, I see that the elementary laws never apologize, I reckon I behave no prouder than the level I plant my house by, after all.

I exist as I am, that is enough, If no other in the world be aware I sit content, And if each and all be aware I sit content. One world is perdita di peso di razorbill 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. I am the poet of the woman the same as the man, And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a man, And I say there is nothing greater than the mother of men.

I chant the chant of dilation or pride, We have had ducking and deprecating about enough, I show that size is only development. Have you outstript the rest?

Una coppia paga una ragazza perché strisci nei condotti di areazione della propria casa. Una famiglia si ritrova un cuore mastodontico in una stanza e comincia ad affettarlo. Un enorme serpente divide in due una cittadina, sconvolgendo la quotidianità dei suoi abitanti. Una coppia che non riesce a concepire un figlio ricorre a un sacrificio estremo.

It is a trifle, they will more than arrive there every one, and still pass on. I am he that walks with the tender and growing night, I call to the earth and sea half-held by the night.

Night of south winds—night of the large few stars! Still nodding night—mad naked summer night. Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees!

Earth of departed sunset—earth of the mountains misty-topt! Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon just tinged with blue! Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river! Smile, for your lover comes. Prodigal, you have given me love—therefore I to you give love! O unspeakable passionate love. Thruster holding perdita di peso di razorbill tight and that I hold tight! We hurt each other as the bridegroom and the bride hurt each other.

You sea! I am he attesting sympathy, Shall I make my list of things in the house and skip the house that supports them? I am not the poet of goodness only, I do not decline to be the poet of wickedness also.

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What blurt is this about virtue and about vice? Did you fear some scrofula out of the unflagging pregnancy? I find one side a balance and the antipodal side a balance, Soft doctrine as steady help as stable doctrine, Thoughts and deeds of the present our rouse and early start. This minute that comes to me over the past decillions, There is no better than it and now. Endless unfolding of words of ages!

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And mine a word of the modern, the word En-Masse. A word of the faith that never balks, Here or henceforward it is all the same to me, I accept Time absolutely. It alone is without flaw, it alone rounds and completes all, That mystic baffling wonder alone completes all.

I accept Reality and dare not question it, Materialism first and last imbuing.

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Hurrah for positive science! Fetch stonecrop mixt with cedar and branches of lilac, This is the lexicographer, this the chemist, this made a grammar of the old cartouches, These mariners put the ship through dangerous unknown seas. This is the geologist, this works with the scalpel, and this is a mathematician.

Gentlemen, to you the first honors always! Your facts are useful, and yet they are not my dwelling, I but enter by them to an area of my dwelling. Unscrew the locks from the doors! Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs!

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Whoever degrades another degrades me, And whatever is done or said returns at last to me. Through me the afflatus surging and surging, through me the current and index. I speak the pass-word primeval, I give the sign of democracy, By God! I will accept nothing which all cannot have their counterpart of on the same terms. 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 is.

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I believe in the flesh and the appetites, Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle. If I worship one thing more than another it shall be the spread of my own body, or any part of it, Translucent mould of me it shall be you! Shaded ledges and rests it shall be you! Firm masculine colter it shall be you! Whatever goes to the tilth of me it shall be you!

You my rich blood! Breast that presses against other breasts it shall be you! My brain it shall be your occult convolutions! Trickling sap of maple, fibre of manly wheat, it shall be you! Sun so generous it shall be you!

Vapors lighting and shading my face it shall be you! You sweaty brooks and dews it shall be you! Winds whose soft-tickling genitals rub against me it shall be you!

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Broad muscular fields, branches of live oak, loving lounger in my winding paths, it shall be you! That I walk up my stoop, I pause to consider if it really be, A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books. To behold the day-break!

The little light fades the immense and diaphanous shadows, The air tastes good to my palate. Hefts of the moving world at innocent gambols silently rising freshly exuding, Scooting obliquely high and low. Something I cannot see puts upward libidinous prongs, Seas of dimagrisci le braccia ingombranti juice suffuse heaven.

See then whether you shall be master! Dazzling and tremendous how quick the sun-rise would kill me, If I could not now and always send sun-rise out of me. We also ascend dazzling and tremendous as the sun, We found our own O my soul in the calm and cool of the daybreak.

Isabel Sterling These Witches Dont Burn

Come now I will not be tantalized, you conceive too much of articulation, Do you not know O speech how the buds beneath you are folded? Writing and talk do not prove me, I carry the plenum of proof and every thing else in my face, With the hush of my lips I wholly confound the skeptic. I hear the chorus, it is a grand opera, Ah this indeed is music—this suits me.