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The hopples fall from your ankles, you find an unfailing
sufficiency, Old or young, male or female, rude, low, rejected by the
rest, whatever you are promulges itself, Through birth, life, death, burial, the means are provided,
nothing is scanted, Through angers, losses, ambition, ignorance, ennui, what
you are picks its way.
MYSELF AND MINE
Let others finish specimens, I never finish specimens,
modern continually. I give nothing as duties, What others give as duties I give as living impulses, (Shall I give the heart's action as a duty ?) Let others dispose of questions, I dispose of nothing, I
arouse unanswerable questions, Who are they I see and touch, and what about them? What about these likes of myself that draw me so close by
tender directions and indirections ?
I call to the world to distrust the accounts of
my friends, but listen to my enemies, as I myself do, I charge you forever reject those who would expound me,
for I cannot expound myself, I charge that there be no theory or school founded out of
me, I charge you to leave all free, as I have left all free. After me, vista! O I see life is not short, but immeasurably long, I henceforth tread the world chaste, temperate, an early
riser, a steady grower, Every hour the semen of centuries, and still of centuries.
I must follow up these continual lessons of the air, water,
earth, I perceive I have no time to lose.
OUT OF THE CRADLE ENDLESSLY ROCKING
child leaving his bed wander'd alone, bareheaded, bare
foot, Down from the shower'd halo, Up from the mystic play of shadows twining and twisting
as if they were alive, Out from the patches of briers and blackberries, From the memories of the bird that chanted to me, From your memories sad brother, from the fitful risings
and fallings I heard, From under that yellow half-moon late-risen and swollen
as if with tears, From those beginning notes of yearning and love there in
the mist, From the thousand
heart never to cease,
them, A reminiscence sing.
brown, And every day the he-bird to and fro near at hand, And every day the she-bird crouch'd on her nest, silent,
with bright eyes, And every day I, a curious boy, never too close, never dis
And thenceforward all summer in the sound of the sea, And at night under the full of the moon in calmer
weather, Over the hoarse surging of the sea, Or Aitting from brier to brier by day, I saw, I heard at intervals the remaining one, the he-bird, The solitary guest from Alabama.
Blow ! blow ! blow !
mate to me.
Yes, when the stars glisten’d,
shadows, Recalling now the obscure shapes, the echoes, the sounds
and sights after their sorts, The white arms out in the breakers tirelessly tossing, I, with bare feet, a child, the wind wafting my hair, Listen'd long and long. Listen’d to keep, to sing, now translating the notes, Following you my brother. Soothe ! soothe ! soothe ! Close on its wave soothes the wave behind, And again another behind embracing and lapping, every one
close, But my love soothes not me, not me. Low hangs the moon, it rose late, It is lagging - 0 I think it is heavy with love, with love. O madly the sea pushes upon the land, With love, with love. O night! do I not see my love fluttering out among the
What is that little black thing I see there in the white?
back again if you only would,
I look. O rising stars ! Perhaps the one I want so much will rise, will rise with some
O throat ! O trembling throat !