Vapors lighting and shading my face it shall be you! Not a cholera patient lies at the last gasp but I also lie at the last gasp, My face is ash-color'd, my sinews gnarl, away from me people retreat. To link to this poem, put the URL below into your page: Song of Myself by Walt. is and in to a was not you i of it the be he his but for are this that by on at they with which she or from had we will have an what been one if would who has her.
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Do you take it I would astonishthe daylight astonish?
None obey'd the command to kneel, Some made a mad and helpless rush, some stood stark and straight, A few fell at once, shot in the temple or heart, the living and deadlay together, The maim'd and mangled dug in the dirt, the new-comers saw them there, Some half-kill'd attempted to crawl away, These were despatch'd with bayonets or batter'd with the blunts of muskets, A youth not seventeen years old seiz'd his assassin till two morecame to release him, The three were all torn and cover'd with the boy's blood.
Mine is no callous shell, I have instant conductors all over me whether I pass or stop, They seize every object and lead it harmlessly through me. I go hunting polar furs and the seal, leaping chasms with apike-pointed staff, clinging to topples of brittle and blue.