Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord, A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt, Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose?
And my spirit said No, we but level that lift to pass and continue beyond.
I tramp a perpetual journey, (come listen all!) My signs are a rain-proof coat, good shoes, and a staff cut from the woods, No friend of mine takes his ease in my chair, I have no chair, no church, no philosophy, I lead no man.
This is the city and I am one of the citizens, Whatever interests the rest interests me, politics, wars, markets, newspapers, schools, The mayor and councils, banks, tariffs, steamships, factories, stocks, stores, real estate and personal estate.O welcome, ineffable grace of dying days!Having pried through the strata, analyzed to a hair, counsel'd with doctors and calculated close, I find no sweeter fat than sticks to my own bones.13 The negro holds firmly the reins of his four horses, the block swags underneath pc shooter games 2013 on its tied-over chain, The negro that drives the long dray of the stone-yard, steady and tall he stands pois'd on one leg on the string-piece, His blue shirt exposes.I fly those flights of a fluid and swallowing soul, My course runs below the soundings of plummets.Your milky stream pale strippings of my life!Do you take it I would astonish?
You my rich blood!
I see something of God each hour of the twenty-four, and each moment then, In the faces of men and women I see God, and in my own face in the glass, I find letters from God dropt in the street, and every one.
Till we find where the sly one hides and bring him forth, Ever love, ever the sobbing liquid of life, Ever the bandage under the chin, ever the trestles of death.
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.One of that centripetal and centrifugal gang I turn and talk like man leaving charges before a journey.6 A child said What is the grass?Which of the young men does she like the best?My lovers suffocate me, Crowding my lips, thick in the pores of my skin, Jostling me through streets and public halls, coming naked to me at night, Crying by day, Ahoy!Copyright The DayPoems web site, t, is copyright by Timothy.20 Who goes there?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.Hands I have taken, face I have kiss'd, mortal I have ever touch'd, it shall be you.The little light fades the immense and diaphanous shadows, The air tastes good to my palate.The beards of the young men glisten'd with wet, it ran from their long hair, Little streams pass'd all over their bodies.