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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.
Something I cannot see puts upward libidinous prongs, Seas of bright juice suffuse heaven.
For it the nebula cohered to an orb, The long slow strata piled to rest it on, Vast vegetables gave it sustenance, Monstrous sauroids transported it in their mouths and deposited it with care.My head slues round on my neck, Music rolls, but not from the organ, Folks are around me, but they are no household of mine.Did you guess the celestial laws are yet to be work'd over and rectified?Sun so generous it shall be you!And to all generals that lost engagements, and all overcome heroes!Easily written loose-finger'd chords-I feel the thrum of your climax and close.The runaway slave came to my house and stopt outside, I heard his motions crackling the twigs of the woodpile, Through the swung half-door of the kitchen I saw him limpsy and weak, And went where he sat on a log and led him.In all people I see myself, none more and not one a barley-corn less, And the good or bad I say of myself I say of them.I lie in the night air in my red shirt, the pervading hush is for my sake, Painless after all I lie exhausted but not so unhappy, White and beautiful are the faces around me, the heads are bared of their fire-caps, The kneeling crowd.Do I astonish more than they?