I speak the pass-word primeval, I give the sign of democracy, By God!
Where are you off to, lady?Not a mutineer walks handcuff'd to jail but I am handcuff'd to him and walk by his side, (I am less the jolly one there, and more the silent one with sweat on my twitching lips.) Not a youngster is taken for larceny but.Root of wash'd sweet-flag!Do you take it I would astonish?This minute that comes to me over the past decillions, There is no better than it and now.I know perfectly well my own egotism, Know my omnivorous lines and must not write any less, And would fetch you whoever you are flush with myself.The clock indicates the moment-but what does eternity indicate?Fighting at sun-down, fighting at dark, Ten o'clock at night, the full moon well up, our leaks on the gain, and five feet of water reported, The master-at-arms loosing the prisoners confined in the after-hold to give them a chance for themselves.You sweaty brooks and dews it shall be you!
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.
It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life.
Distant and dead resuscitate, They show as the dial or move as the hands of me, I am the clock myself.I accept Reality and dare not question it, Materialism first and last imbuing.It cannot fall the young man who died and was buried, Nor the young woman who died and was put by his side, Nor the little child that peep'd in at the door, and then drew back and was never seen again, Nor the old.And mine a word of the modern, the word En-Masse.I hear the chorus, it is a grand opera, Ah this indeed is music-this suits.A few quadrillions of eras, a few octillions empire casino spel bord new york of cubic leagues, do not hazard the span or make it impatient, They are but parts, any thing is but a part.Breast that presses against other breasts it shall be you!