I will accept nothing which all cannot have their counterpart of on the same terms.
Askers embody themselves in me and linux batch script sleep I am embodied in them, I project my hat, sit shame-faced, and beg.
The clock indicates the moment-but what does eternity indicate?
Who will soonest be through with his supper?5 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.Welcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of any man hearty and clean, Not an inch nor a particle of an inch is vile, and none shall be less familiar than the rest.She owns the fine house by the rise of the bank, She hides handsome and richly drest aft the blinds of the window.To elaborate is no avail, learn'd and unlearn'd feel that it.
Hankering, gross, mystical, nude; How is it I extract strength from the beef I eat?
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.
I do not say these things for a dollar or to fill up the time while I wait for a boat, (It is you talking just as much as myself, I act as the tongue of you, Tied in your mouth, in mine it begins.
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.
No shutter'd room or school can commune with me, But roughs and little children better than they.My face rubs to the hunter's face when he lies down alone in his blanket, The driver thinking of me does not mind the jolt of his wagon, The young mother and old mother comprehend me, The girl and the wife rest the needle.I wonder where they get those tokens, Did I pass that way huge times ago and negligently drop them?I am enamour'd of growing out-doors, Of men that live among cattle or taste of the ocean or woods, Of the builders and steerers of ships and the wielders of axes and mauls, and the drivers of horses, I can eat and sleep with them.Not words of routine this song of mine, But abruptly to question, to leap beyond yet nearer bring; This printed and bound book-but the printer and the printing-office boy?Embody all presences outlaw'd or suffering, See myself in prison shaped like another man, And feel the dull unintermitted pain.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.8 The little one sleeps in its cradle, I lift the gauze and look a long time, and silently brush away flies with my hand.Did you guess the celestial laws are yet to be work'd over and rectified?I am he that walks with the tender and growing night, I call to the earth and sea half-held by the night.