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Have you outstript the rest?
Or sailor from the sea?
Creeds and schools in abeyance, Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten, I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard, Nature without check with original energy.
Is he from the Mississippi country?The boy I love, the same becomes a man not through derived power, but in his own right, Wicked rather than virtuous out of conformity or fear, Fond of his sweetheart, relishing well his steak, Unrequited love or a slight cutting him worse than sharp.Toward twelve there in the beams of the moon they surrender.We have thus far exhausted trillions of winters and summers, There are gokken op internet verboden trillions ahead, and trillions ahead of them.9 The big doors of the country barn stand open and ready, The dried grass of the harvest-time loads the slow-drawn wagon, The clear light plays on the brown gray and green intertinged, The armfuls are pack'd to the sagging mow.Of the turbid pool that lies in the autumn forest, Of the moon that descends the steeps of the soughing twilight, Toss, sparkles of day and dusk-toss on the black stems that decay in the muck, Toss to the moaning gibberish of the dry limbs.Down-hearted doubters dull and excluded, Frivolous, sullen, moping, angry, affected, dishearten'd, atheistical, I know every one of you, I know the sea of torment, doubt, despair and unbelief.This is the geologist, this works with the scalper, and this is a mathematician.Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems, You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions of suns left you shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look.
Broad muscular fields, branches of live oak, loving lounger in my winding paths, it shall be you!
Even as I stand or sit passing faster than you.
Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.
I will accept nothing which all cannot have their counterpart of on the same terms.
40 Flaunt of the sunshine I need not your bask-lie over!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.Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen, Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn.I go hunting polar furs and the seal, leaping chasms with a pike-pointed staff, clinging to topples of brittle and blue.What are you doing?Evil propels me and reform of evil propels me, I stand indifferent, My gait is no fault-finder's or rejecter's gait, I moisten the roots of all that has grown.It is not far, it is within reach, Perhaps you have been on it since you were born and did not know, Perhaps it is everywhere on water and on land.
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