Whoever you are, I give it especially to you;
So long!–And I hope we shall meet again.
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TWO Rivulets side by side,
Companions, travelers, gossiping as they journey.For the Eternal Ocean bound,These ripples, passing surges, streams of Death and Life,Object and Subject hurrying, whirling by,The Real and Ideal,Alternate ebb and flow the Days and Nights,(Strands of a Trio twining, Present, Future, Past.)In You, whoe’er you are, my book perusing, 10In I myself–in all the World–these ripples flow,All,…
NOT alone those camps of white, O soldiers,
Footsore and weary, soon as the light lessen’d, we halted for thenight;Some of us so fatigued, carrying the gun and knapsack, droppingasleep in our tracks;Others pitching the little tents, and the fires lit up began tosparkle;Outposts of pickets posted, surrounding, alert through the dark,And a word provided for countersign, careful for safety;Till to the call…
HOW they are provided for upon the earth, (appearing at intervals;)
How they inure to themselves as much as to any–What a paradoxappears their age;How people respond to them, yet know them not;How there is something relentless in their fate, all times;How all times mischoose the objects of their adulation and reward,And how the same inexorable price must still be paid for the samegreat purchase.
NOW I make a leaf of Voices–for I have found nothing mightier than
And I have found that no word spoken, but is beautiful, in its place.O what is it in me that makes me tremble so at voices?Surely, whoever speaks to me in the right voice, him or her I shallfollow,As the water follows the moon, silently, with fluid steps, anywherearound the globe.All waits for the right…
A call in the midst of the crowd,
Come my children,Come my boys and girls, my women, household and intimates,Now the performer launches his nerve, he has pass’d his prelude on the reeds within.Easily written loose-finger’d chords—I feel the thrum of your climax and close.My head slues round on my neck,Music rolls, but not from the organ,Folks are around me, but they are…
I am the teacher of athletes,
He most honors my style who learns under it to destroy the teacher.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 steel…