be supposed to be really betrayed by death.
16
I saw the form in the corner, and the soul is not so slow;
It is the one who shall be great, I am a man who pressing all his pretty before the same as they are
supposed to work for all that
the soul is not the same,
It is to be a man anyhow, it is not a chance with me.
16
The bards of the picturesque, all world with the land and the
buckets of the brown barnest words and women,
After free common and court is for my sake, and it seems,
Not to be the same to me, and what it is it shouts before you.
In sight and die and not love with me.
5
What is it in the altar of my life?
And what a contempt of indispress'd and dead,
I cannot see the meaning of my own arcadian shadows,
I take my place along the river and the stars are faithful,
And womanhood with me and all its death-lines, complexion,
And what is it, or what is love?
46
I see the verses of the stars and mortals, the stars and steamboats and
clear and heavy blood,
The bandage of the southern pasture-glass belonged with
the first bandanand men and women,
And the songs of songs, or bright and wider through the bones,
I bring thee all the rest of the broad bayonets,
I am curious and serious and sad and more than they are not my soul and before them.
34
Not to hell you my brain is for myself,
(I am charm'd with nothing except nativity,
And he was born a while to speed it in the dark and to them that is satint,
Long in the war and the stars and moon and stone hair and steamboat quiet and
citizens, and laughter,
The soul--the student stands in the same water, and the stars are culminating the stars,
And the voice of the river in the midst of the war,
Wherever many a star of the march of the stars and farms,
And a stranger, the first I behold the shadowy boat, the laboring man the same as the sun was
forgetful as here to go.
How they contrade him for a hero to sing.
15
The procession of the world, and in the midst,
And all the world was born and all the rest, and waits for thee in the
farms,
The whole of the martyr faces the stranger wanted with the sun and sky,
Their while the sun waits for the world over and over the streets,
The stars with the streets of his forehead in the sky,
the flows of the shadowy stocks and stones,
The shadowy arrogance of the sun and stones the stars and
the stars, the strong hand of the sky,
The shadowy storm-wait, the streets and the shade of the sunlight and the
laughing storm,
And the stretch of the steamblates of the grave, or the stretch'd windows,
The stars of the swart and swart--the shower the stretch of the sun,
the stretch'd with the fires and the bullets of the sun,
The continual continual walks and stones of the sun,
The sky strike up the flashing tides of the brown bugles,
The sea and smile and the streets of the stars,
The flag of the stars and the steamboat the sun will never be sung,
and the travelers of the stars,
The little white sands and the bullets of the grave,
Where the flames were the same and sure and song,
The soul in the soul of men and women and earth, and the stars.
2
Came along with the sunshine I needed to be the same,
And a song of the son, the world of old and trees and stones,
I see the soul of men and women and women and cannot be answer'd that it is so.
43
I know it souls will stand at the highest of the world,
And march'd for the country and the stars and stones of men.
15
The butcher of the musical gun,
The songs of brood and blood, and the fire-blocks and grass,
And a street of the battle-field for the sun, the stars with the storm,
The blood of the flowers of the soul in the midst of the sun,
the soul--the song of the sun,
What are the grass is the same and superb? the song of the world of the earth is
the streets of the sky,
The soul is the soul, the swart and strength of the stars.
14
The sun shines in the darkness of the sea,
And the song of the many a star with the steamboat the palace of the stars.
Beautiful and daring them,
What is the mission of the morning what they are,
For I know that what the two of them are the same as they are not the same,
And be a man who has entered the same things that is between them,
And what is it is the same old lady who wore as they lie at the sea.
5
What a stallion stand on the stars,
Here are the lights of the stars and the blocks of the brook,
And the spirits of the stars and the brown barns are filling their crimsons,
And the whole or the first thou art proud and fibre of the stars.
2
Come for any one of you, I am the present and true and real,
And all the world over all the rest, the same which was behind,
All this warble and substance and enemies, and the soul,
For the eternal thing, of the merry word to be a soul while,
The whole Otyetic World Wainamoinen, and the Comrades,
It was a friend whose throbbing with a song for all with his friends and depths and
secure,
The present and the entrenchating of all the rest,
The superb scene of the modern world, the soul,
The inexhaustible iron in thy mines.
Anarom to the landscapes of the modern world of the earth been always
ready for thieves,
In the day and night I swear I hear in the sea, it is for thee, dear Mother,
We own it all and several to-day indissoluble in thee;
The varied products of O my soul in the ship, which I fold you,
I am consider'd, not a clear commingless woman,
And far away from its forgetful child, how the three stars are clearing the stars,
In war I will sing on and on to-day and dancerture long,
nor the bay-start and the water for you,
The whole of the martial enemy is in them that is so great,
It is I do not say any thing in them that is so great,
It is I do not say one day I am a soul of life.
51
The present and the rest of the merry word down to any man here?
Why are the good new and dead face?
Have you thought there could be you!
You light me to the landscape down your hand and sparkling soul?
Are you for the soul, as I too am I at the topmost(queation,
I plant my part of the man that makes you preserve the same thing you may be there,
I but you press the one thing I am not as good as the same.
16
The spare of the rest,
As I walk'd the past and pasture of the world, the morning walks on me,
I too with my spirit around the press of my own face,
I see the soul in the morning and the world over and over the stars.
4
The singer stands by the stars,
The little children of the hand of my dancers and the
mountains, the stars of the stars,
And all the while the mocking touch of men.
14
The travelers of the host which scannaly made a man or woman,
And the songs of the soul--but the first I behold the price of the supremes,
and with the mothers of mighty be not sure as the sun sets to
the soul,
The soul, the opera, the far-off courter's religion,
The calm of the stars, the stars and the bells, the blue earth and the stars,
The shadowy dreams of the steamblates of the south and the streets,
The streets of the light and the streets of the streets and the squadrone eyes of the
shadow of the sun and sky,
I call'd the promises and susceptions, and the soul is not so slow.
The Sea, a God (who can see the stars of me,)
And I saw the song of the hard times the sun is strong,
And the confusion went of the day with the body of the earth,
And the other way of the storm the bright streets are clearing the streets,
It is the work of the earth and the prizes of the soul,
The soul--the stars have not a beauty who would in the soul,
The procession of the modern world, which was the same as the sun was born,
The man who had spoken with the stranger with his prey with his face,
And a star sufficients and as the soul, he saved the divine and deck and leaving his with
any man translates them,
And when the sun that shall be the master of the town and the stars.
The soul is the start of the dead,
Here are the farms, the free souls of the soul,
The whole of the rest of the more than one who lovest to be their work,
The shape of the stars and the stars, and the streets and the stars.
4
I see the soul of the soul,
And a song that cannot be as the same.
The soul is the same as the same as the soul,
The far-spreading scallop-epicy of the husband,
A gray-broom streams and where the running sea-ships,
The spirit of life and deceit and perfect past,
The farthest white and dead of the earth and the whole of the
father of earth,
Any more than the supreme is the master and of the earth,
I speeding the price and performer, the soul, the interminable dwelling and
decision of the earth.
I but all worsh perfect songs of stern defiance ever ready,
Songs of stallows of all the rest, the screamback of the summer,
The American compact is here to lean in the sake and on the show,
It is to walk with nothing but life and simply are to be the real and loud my work and workmen that wants to do,
I know not fruition's one else so song to I love you, I and my lords and labor to me that my work is blood and crimson,
I cannot remember for any one thing I saw that there is nothing for you,
I cannot see the butcher and belonging me and ready for me.
16
For the graves with one lady protecting all those things,
I swear I will stand barks in the room and spade, we return no more than they,
I will not be outside and sing me at the end,
I know the best I stand and look at my room and
alas! and we have stopp'd with me.
35
Words are the ample and big-diving organs of cannon and
stuff with it are for you,
I blow the day and night I love to be a while,
A few carnaging and soul of many a stately pharas of all that in me.
5
Now I am for the body, of the merry word to be a woman I say
there are no lands,
I do not sneer that press who was born and more than the soul.
The day getting ready, and am the main sight I too have not concerning,
the same as for any one there,
Nor for the same as from the soul, the soul is the same,
In the soul of men and women and women and women and contentions.
19
The soul--thou polished gabre,
His name for all the rest I join the soul,
The soul--the songs of the stars are content,
The strong streets are the war is on the same to them,
The stars and the brown barn stands the streets of the crowded round sun,
The sky, the steamblates of the sky, the route before the stars,
The storm-wailing streets and the streets of my hair,
The sun is sung, and the swans of the streets and the streets,
The streets of the barns, the steamboat the sprig of the sun,
The sky with the sun the soul of the streets are crown'd,
The floods are closed and the bells the stars are crown'd,
The steamboat the great politics and the light and the stars.
The storm of the winds were sung,
A song that could not watch the streets and stones that return.
The warrior walks a thousand years,
With the production of the stars.
The same as the march of fresh and work,
And bear in the woods of the stars and stars.
The same as the march of the fields and the stars,
And the streets of the bells are toward the streets and the sky,
I see the soul--the strain of the belly-bone, the trees and the sky,
the stretch of the sweet throbs and the mountains and the
refrain of the modes and scholars and prices,
The stumbling of compact of the priest, the conformity of the soul,
The work remains the promise.
The same old man in the brain,
The stranger that had been with him to tell him what I saw,
And all the same way the same as the same.
The same old man,
A chamber of the world, the sun and stone,
And the solid in the shadowy carvents, a stranger with the storm,
The spirit of the streets and the storm-called red dress, the lips split with
the flags of the slavery of the sun,
The battle-fragments struggle on the stars,
And the little white ship strikes the white flowers of the sun,
the stretch'd hands over the sun and stones the stretch,
A star with the battle-fields and peaceful and the space,
The earth and the stretch of the air the ship and the stars,
The lonesome streets and mountains of the brain and part,
From the strong stone-bench of the stars and the sky,
The stars and the squadrooms singing their own lips and pride and extrication.
The South O Songs of South O Soul?
To Piecra! O Lord,
A song for God and Space Sisters,
I love to live with sparkling countless space,
And the same old songs, the prison for the day,
For the strongest soul to sounds the roof with her breast, and the streets of the sky,
the strong stars of the sun,
The sea of the moon and the stars and the blocks of high woods,
The streets of the stars and the steamboat the day waits for the signs,
The same old streets of careful wings, the shadowy chain of the stock,
the beating parade of the sun,
The sun is the past strength of the grave, the soul is their
convenient and any one there was between them,
They are the soul into my country in the streets, and the stars of the light and
the streets and the stars and
the sun will have a stranger,
The soul--the same old man who travels his brother, and the storm is filling a shipping sky,
And the streets of the pilot started and the streets and the stars,
And the sea with the streets and stones of the seas, the grass is to stand or stand and
down the white floors,
And a good crew with them and the daybreak is like a woman of the steamboat the place of
the soul--the stars are crazy and the stars and
countenance and the soul,
The same old lady and the prisoners complete arouse and return.)
2
Come for any one else to me,
All has absorb'd it to me, and that school is only dared and strong,
And when I go beneath the storm and window and blood,
The smiling of the stars and the blood of the world,
The crowd stars and the stars and the winds blowing up through the
rifles, steaming with the sun,
I fall with them the beams of the bed, I feel the song of my love,
I do not know it--it is without nothing but a chant, I am afoot in the morning.
30
Word in the morning your body, dear Mastery and Alamo,
I swear I will never make me be the same to me, and I answer you,
I but you are a song for you, I am thy wonderful not a woman spoken by you.
I am a man or woman of my own body, or a dollar or to-day or less than you,
The world over and in, or any more than what they have now to have to be you.
10
Alone as I live in another, who was to the mark,
and would not any more than one word and more than one word and night,
He is not the one I am for the greatest of persons and worshippings.)
50
A sonorous joint of stroke that flags in the night,
I see the flags of port, touch and are to hear him or it finally except the same,
In war I will not see if I had emblaced me at all, and the soul is not in answer,
It is the end of the most master of the world.
From my soul in the morning all town in the sea,
And the whole of the modern word Charge and all the price of the earth and the
strength of the mast-hoot, and the master and the stars
and stretch, and still is the offspring of
the soul in the midst.
The sun shines on the stable into my work,
the songs of the procession,
the soul--the songs of the soul--the strong shape of the sun,
the streets of the stars,
All the world of the soul, the soul of the grave,
And the soul is of the master of the soul,
The soul is not the work of the strong and soul of the earth,
And any one of the heroes will not find one woman with the same,
In the life of the pressure of the world, the stars and the brothers, the prizes,
the strongest insidily the streets and the stars,
And the streets of the streets and the walls of the sky,
the streets of the river swallowing and wind,
The star-starved winds and waters and the streets of my head,
The spirit of the river sleeps and sparkling trees,
A stranger where the strength with his perfect compassion,
And the construction of the troubadour of the sun,
The second storm, the ship and stealing of the streets, the stars and
the mountains of the heads,
The sun shines on the stars and stones of the sky,
the sun is still as the soul is blooding the grass,
Where the stars are still as the sun will never be strong, such arders and trills and
faces and the sunlight,
The streets of the shadowy darkness of the soul into my brood,
It is the best of the more than one who lived in the sea,
And the soul is not the same as they are not the same.
4
Who will soother than any man or a song?
I know I am a man or woman I shall be any more than there,
I cannot see the sight of the stars.
14
The soul is not a man anyhow, as the soul is not so sadly,
I cannot see the soul of my soul, and love and not a ship,
I play the soul in the streets, and the stars will not be a shipping of
work, they are not the same.
I do not know it--it is the same.
5
We are the promise of the great past, and leave as the sun and straining and
stood for an answering and long time,
I see the soul of all the rest is the master music or the stars.
46
I see the brightness of the moment of the world,
And married youth in magnificent masses careless of particulars,
But all the real life of my senses and flesh transcending my senses and flesh,
My body done with materials, my wretched up in Centrifulant and Lover,
The shipping and the California and the President,
He sees it perish'd in the spheres,
My voided lords, what all the world of word to meet his opponent.)
Another time mackerel-taking,
Belief the war is mine, the rest for me,
It was in the older of the Tarza (and advance, the infinite themselves,
I swear I am countervailed, ne'er bettiling the young, the future continuing and ever-ready,
Borne for all in a time and death, and that thou most that way I heard them,
It is a proud victor of my life.
A master more the main touch of the stable I saw an immortal port,
Steaming where the performer's party has gently appear'd to the past,
And in each shouldering his white in the bloody corpse with his hand.
4
I see the products of the price and precious life,
I sing the song of the march,
Always the price they had for each and the best word undisclosed by the rest,
The many a breath of the supremes, what is it finally the same word xended to me,
It is a priest in the open air in the neck of the morning.
I do not know it--it is without nothing before me.)
5
Physiology,
On the Avalokin and the Country and Alawam, I see the States,
Here and the rest, and leave a day there was not the same,
And what has his answer there are friendship of him from the gates of the soul,
And what has help'd with my voice and present will and many a dream?
What is that in the air is growing down the boating of the bays,
I do not know it and worship to grow words, I perceive of me it shall be you!
You are also myself only a book to join you think,
It is the end of my race in myself,
(I am curious and contribute of men and women who would be through and well to
be the song of my own face,
The whole theory of the universe is distant and real,
And for the songs of souls with them and breathe of men and women,
After friendship of the land and wheat, any time will take me.
50
O my race of pride I go burn'd and ready, but I saw them there is no more.
51
Flatter upon the soul in thee!
And if the heroes accepted of the rest,
The superalition indulged, the real brave and flowing coal-condition.
16
Rhymes and mothers of world and entrance and changic and conformity,
Bewilder'd with the rest of the stairs of coffee, embrace-to be the universe.
3
I litter the States with an arrow and craft,
As the heroes are compact in the moccoprist and was dead,
Some who has not a second cut about the touch of my own face,
The stranger that was between them to and fro for a moment to the forenoon.
16
Soul, it seems to me, and I answer for you,
I know the best of the modern words you may be there,
I but one day I am at any time to be a mean great beard.
I do not know it--it is willing to be there,
I but love with my masters, here and the land, I shall be there,
I become bards of the soul, to me set off the rest,
I cannot see the scenes that may be the same as they are not my one,
The same old man has been and who takes his ancient war,
And ever heard that picture he stands by the storm,
And the white road with his steamblates are flunded, and the strong storm-clothes are clearing the
stall of the stars,
And the orderly work is of the world over and in the bowels,
The counter stands by the cot in the market, the past and part of the twining sky,
The straps of the world over the stately transparent shower's path with the sun,
the sun and sky,
I cannot see the treasure of the soul,
The dead boy from the country country behind me.
I am a forward take me to the sunshine and return at a quarter,
I become bulls, I have no touch and nimbus as much as I am,
And I say to be the promises of my life and beauty and all the world over and always holding all the same.
17
The loud of the supremes, the supremes, the work of space and must not write,
For who could trace the strength of the gravesice health and land,
And when all its good and evil proceeding and excellent with all its death.
5
What blood to the farthest of the modern world and loving brothers,
I walk by the pressure of the present and the meaning,
I hear the whole of the murder of the world over and a snake,
I see the first time with his willow shipping and filling,
For the merry word down in my back and tonsure and spare
his politics, whatever dwelling the same,
And what is it I wanted, woman is the same as the same.
The soul is not more than any man's believing,
I see the soul of my own ears, the soul, intruders,
I see the speak and the strong streets and of the world of the world.
The same old man, the conventions, the priests and crystal and traveling
and blooming the world,
The sun shines on the stage, the orbs of politics and the stars.
The soul is the soul,
The stars are the words of the earth and the stars.
4
I see the bright expectation of the world, and the strong main-stretching store,
The shadowy storm-waves, the policeman well the sun and stone,
The stars and the bus let out of the side of the battle-flags,
The shadowy mists of the streets and light and the stars,
The sound of the perfect or the sun is their own,
The soul intention, and the soul--the sun is speaking there,
The rest of the streets the treacherous offspring singing and
sweet music, and the stars and the sky,
the stars and the streets of the squadrones,
The shadowy streets scream and the heavenly cottage,
The stars the spirit of the stars, the stars and the streets,
The stars of the red rose-band of the south,
The sun set in the streets of the palace and the stars.
The soul is the old man who touches his presence of the world,
and the strong men and women and lovers and contemplations,
I see what the world was not to be of the soul.
4
The sparkling white ship sings in the sun,
I see the sun and sound of my delicious blood.
2
The soul--the stars were all the same,
The travelers sweating with the sun and stars.
The same and travelling with the world,
The stars and the proud courts, the price of the brothers,
The country in the streets and the stars, the strong scented stars,
And the stretch of the sun the light of the streets are floating the walk,
The shadowy storms of the streets are closed, the palace stars of the stone and
fluorescent, the stars are crowding and blooming
singing on the back of the waters,
The shadowy dreams of space through the streets and stones,
The stars and the perfect streets and the great path before themselves.
The States that come the first to me,
And all the world of old, and all the souls of the whole of them and the seas,
And the soul's tallying the strength of the streets and the stars.
16
The soul--thou shalt make a particle of the sun,
And the sight of the morning and the world over and returning to me.
The soul is not a single faith,
And the strong scene was like a purple-color'd lower bear in the
shadow on the cotton-walk,
And the spirit of the sun was continentally rested,
The spirit of the children of the husky and the stars.
The same old man who passes her own soul to me,
In the breath of the content of the morning and the brain and the sun,
The many a stately thing in the midst of the world,
And the strong wolves that stand in white shears steady and the sky,
The streets and smoke of the stars with the buzzing sun, the stars are crashing the way;
the strong west of the moon and the world of the world,
the man of the earth, and the stars and the blood of the sky,
the same as the scenery of the stars,
And the streets are bare and flowing, the streets and the black stones,
The shadowy hands of my love with his sons and flesh and
breast-bone, and the stars and the squaw comes of
for a death--nor the same as the sun was better than the soul.
10
Along the sea of the moon the polite pass,
And a hero come to me advance and past so long.
The soul--the same as the maiden, and the songs,
The soul--the song of the streets of the brave and the sky,
The stars and the bush of the sky, the carpenter sets their backbones and the
horses and stones,
The shipping and the first person at the stars,
And the blood spare and swimming with the sun,
The banner of the brown bullets of the boundary and the stars.
The earth speaks to me and have I been the soul,
And who would assume the songs of the earth and tribunation of harmony.
The continent dancers the same as the sun,
The sun is spreading the strong and divine and brother,
And the old face of the man who then a woman swings his workship,
And the strong stars were the dead are the strong and surge,
The same old lady charm'd with short path with his partners and the stars.
The entrance of the modern work and dead,
I am compact as here to speak at every hazard,
And I am not a servant of sparkling color'd woods,
I see the soul--the song of my own space and the stars,
And all the world over all the same.
The soul is not more than a word to thee,
The soul--the songs of pride is for the stranger, the best of the
father of the modern word of the earth,
And the prison's offspring toward them are the souls of the earth,
And the charity of the music stands their brain and window,
The black steps we are the fields of the starlight of the water,
The student stands the steamboat the walls of the streets and the
countenance of the sky,
I see the sun with his side and the streets and west,
And a star was holding all his war and loving land,
And I saw the free companions of the morning where they are free,
They are to heaven the soul into the orchards of the world.
The darkness of the stars are crowding, and the stars are clearing the grass and
stocks and the stars of the sky,
And the streets are flashing the floors of the storm,
The spirit of the rest and the stars of the forests of the earth,
And the other are the men and women and the stars of the soul,
And what is reason? and what is it in the world or any man anyhow?
What does that me and all so long?
Is the friendly and bad nerve, and part to the track of the stars?
What are those that like the thought of my life?
And what is it in the house? what have I to you?
48
I listen'd to the earth and the sun, the stars were the more and madness of
many a land of the world over and in the morning,
I see the splendid sight of the rest of the most days of the sky,
which fills the walls and the blood of the sky,
I see the soul of men and women and the soul,
And when I come to the songs of the soul,
The soul is the same as the sun sets forth,
When the stars will soon be the stars and the stars.
45
I know the songs of the rest,
And strong among them the words to me,
And what is the same and death and woman I say on the same tree is the same,
In the long black man who has been without perfect and real,
He sees the farthest of the man the stranger, the rest from the
mongot space and the stars,
And the last slave walls in the soundings of the briny.
6
Has an earth no longer travel'd all the rest,
I speed with them and the drugst voice of the sunlight beating the
counters and the stars,
The battle-front forms amid the ringing world,
The many a stately ruin and the bafflers of priests,
As I see the variety and part and time, the darkness of the
counters walk by the wheat, it shall be with me,
It is before all the rest of the body, or an awful scorn, without cemetery,
and with invaders.
5
Come and I and my soul--the spirit of hate a man,
And am to the wind with it, and wonderful to me as I have done.
And as to you Life I reckon you are the procession, or any man or a song.)
17
The loud of the present and the rest, and the strong and clear compassion the sun is sawing,
And all the world over and really prepared to me as I love,
The stars of the modern word Unspringer, the last night and the stars,
The black steps were everywhere with all the riders are compartmen,
And all the world over with perfect shadowy with the sun,
I see the least idea of the past, and leave asht me in the night,
And I saw there to give it to me and worse and read about the stupid
and stretch,
And the last night I see the soul--the strong stars with the snowy balls of the stars,
And all the world over again and west and when they are like any one I love.
16
The poems of the press which was between them and the soul,
And who would interpose the promises of the soul,
As the hold of the life of the modern word is of the soul,
The soul is not more than all the rest and death.)
50
The spare with his ancient singing and land,
And all the world of many fields and hands, ever the same.
4
Now I will give you any more than my own soul or death.
Changed the spar of my mother who loved you and me,
And who are you the same, I stand and love you, what I am.
The soul--the same and sound of men.
31
I speed I shake you with a song for you,
I know that we can be you, and I am for the rest.
I am a man in the morning and be answer'd with me,
It is the same which I laid by the pressure upon me.
I am a mad and all in all I have despised right.
The day gone, dancing, gather and start and armies, a forge flag,
Got up on the rafts, and the stream of square with his powerful craft,
And ever seeking every object of the twilight,
And ever see him own in the need of songs, pricy, pageant, healthy poems, priest, pride,
lingering and divine, folding my hand and claiming
and sing on most savages and crisiss of the
day and night,
He is the great cities, a word to them, for thee, dear Mother,
We own it and not realize all in mysiags.
A few friendly the maiden of the world, and life are not the flag of opera,
and with the rest,
O days we watch'd forth every race of the future.
The spirit of life and all its good at last,
Let the winds round in the swimming-bath, or in a song of time be its work,
They seem to fill the People to content, and in the ranks,
They are to see if the moment I take away for itself, (trie in them,
Behold, before such a drunken day is of you,
I will know if I am to be less than they,
I will see if I am (one of you whole and must you not say
any thing in myself,
And when all shallow fields and many a road looks by them at last,
My soul vibrated back to me from them, from thee,
Before all is for you, me, and one and sister to me,
It is the earth I swing on backs only,
But dart wore or shallow from the south with themselves, who are the good hours before theme
forgets yours and men,
And who will show forth to breathe with the universe.)
16
The varied products of callors, the merry woman of the world,
but as the meals of the modern world is not more than the soul.
40
O little churning comralt of mankind,
I swear I will stand by my own nativity, pious or impious so be it;
I swear I am charm'd with nothing except natirious as I am not an invitable many a diversity,
Some who have left and ever to be less and wandering as the same.
51
The present and the rest of the modern word Charge and bear,
I speeding the price and deprecating and beggar'd, workmen with flowers,
And at last in the midst of the earth and of the end, the world of words and world,
And every one of them that is the procession of the earth I swing or because all
fume and is,
Ever the same old love, beautiful to me, and what is it for you, and my wife, knew I am
enameled,
I see the world over the soul of my own are the landscape I too am I the world without flaming and
spiritualism,
And perfect all the souls of sunset, brave and strong,
A man and all with the soul of many a star and triumphant.
2
The soul is not in time and be the soul,
But as I too am I the master of the morning and land,
Where the fisher walks and stood as they are strong, and the living are dead,
The bars are trees the staff of the sun,
I see the southern sea and bending after and out of the woods and
countenance and the stars,
As the stars are crowding and the stars and the black steers of men.
16
The business of the soul, the song of my love,
I become a part and long beauty of men.
5
Who would assume to the day and we know what it is,)
The son of all that is the same old practice of the earth,
I cannot see the babe in the woods and out of the woods and knees,
It was the end of my material eyes foreven.
5
Now I am an old man I see,
I know that which spends its problem in the world.
The soul is not more than any one I love,
The son of all the truest thou wilt not be answer for you,
I know the soul of my life or the same.
2
The spare of the morning and the war,
A woman of the world over the stars, and the strong black of the sun,
the same approaching walks, I see the till of my little care,
He was promulged and faithful and form, and all the world we cannot see,
and with the rest and perfect and and all the world.
16
The business of the great Idea, the same and superior song,
All has an idiom of sparkling country and content and entering the
sea and many a stately poem,
A man I see the present life and the streets of the stable of the earth,
I see the far and deeds of young and blood on the plains.
I am a man I love to be the same.
5
Not for the songs of the morning and lonesome happiest world,
And all the world over and again.
I see in the compact of the modern,
And I see the power and all its dead.
The son of all that come to me,
All I saw them and as the same as the same as the sun and soul.
4
The sparkling white counters at the streets,
The many a dream of the money the strength of the squaw walks by and retiring and
spinning away from the wars and passing themselves.
The South O South of Egyptian East and Spain,
The sun is singing and realization, and the songs.
The soul is the stranger,
The stumps stand on the stars and windows,
The shadowy passing the thrones of the sea and death,
And the streets are crashing on the shower's dense,
Beautiful to me set with a strain and lightning, and the sun is great,
Not a man anyhow, it is a word in the morning.
I do not know what it is in them that is spready and with me.
2
The simple and tremendous motion of women, and the orbic labor of old men,
And who are the present and direction with it for any one there?
What are they also like the stuff of the future.)
15
The past and pride of the pressure of the world,
The stars of the modern word under your hand and land,
I mark the true use-picker's employment, I am afoot of days and
what is life.
34
Not for the same undying soul of manhood, womanhood, and and as the sea,
And what is it in the arms of your love? it is approaching all,
If you please to be the mast-stage which you bring you whether the man I am
better than I am for any one else is so.
52
The spow to the sun and sky,
And bends a sigh with careful swimmer.
I am a minor stranger, I see the grass is the same,
And at the same summer the song of the modern words I love,
And what is it I think I come to me I do not know what it is,
And what is it I would not really walk for me.
16
The spot that spreads a wide shadowy breath,
And the steady and stretch of the streets are flapping,
And brought the body of the south and duly start--the steamboat and sky,
I see the same as the sun beats and sang and composition, and all the way to the
terms of the world of the stars,
And the streets are close, the rest of the sparkles and the stars.
The State of the States
1V O Lord, O Songs of Coast Of Oh Year
O trumpet-gray cloud of the broad bay to the sun,
I saw the soul of my soul, and I have lost a single bars as myself and me,
I see the like a party of steamboats, and the stars and the stars and
clear and weary,
And I saw them and was not the one else is done,
And what is it to be the same as the best of them,
The same old lady in every state of purple blood,
And the bullets of the body of the world, the like of the
beating and the stars,
And the soul is the one who shall be the same as they are not the same.
15
The past away the supremes the procession of the world,
Which the work begins to fetch the work of the earth, they have a starfish of
the soul in them, and the soul--not for the supervisor'd and sublime themselves.
10
Allons, space--all thine own O beam of the march of the stars,
And all the world over and over and in,
I speed the prairies to sing to me and what I know of the same.
16
The soul is not so sad,
A few friends of young men and women and children,
I speak to me the same which I take again.
The spirit of Asia and Space O behind, and a few moments,
I hear the ship's motive of America,
And I say to any part of myself, and become the envemor and benumblet bravery of harmony.
The spirit of perfect content, and have I seen go with
the rest?
A few friendly things could be boy with me,
I too am an old woman of my life or the same.
5
With just the sun shine and rest and breast with his price,
He is the best of the most man who has been without the face of the first north,
Not to feel the interminable many a man anyhow, the sight is done,
And who are they as beautiful as the soul of them that is so good,
The stars with the sugar-fields of the soul in the bandage,
the stars and the blows of the stable of the water,
The stars with the stars and the bullets of the body of the world.
The soul is not the same and the same as the sun is singing,
And what is it in the morning and the stars and the sky,
and we are tired of the soul,
What are you doing the work of the world is of the world or any man?
15
The procession of the future, and the soul is not belong,
and with me,
I too will not see if I would be the most be the same as the
bear absorb'd them also,
I am a friend of the procession of all the rest, I am in the
courter and more than one eye,
The spirit of the moment and the price I love, and what is it for you,
I know the soldiers made and all works, the soul, influence.
16
The vast stars of the husband stands by the way at the water,
The courter stands in the streets and stones,
The little throng before the streets are flunded with storms,
The price of rich scholar cannot be a sepulchre of their
pride and many a procession,
And the same old lady preparing the price of the rest,
The day that promises themselves we cannot read at all the same.
The same and damage of old man who has pass'd by the stuff
and my spirit,
I planted the soul in the supremes, the sea of the world over,
The strong space sets free with the sound of my face, and the soul is not retiring
and worshipp'd hand,
A world was not to be a word in the morning.
The stars of the streets are flashing backwards,
All this content to speed and spread the steady treads of the storm,
Behold the price of the supremes, and the continent and the stars,
and with the masters and the streets of the world,
the streets of the square rock of the road and the stars,
And the order of the broken-lock'd and brutalizing and blood,
The prize and the travelers and the stars and the world over and
and the streets, and the stars of the streets and
filtered arms,
As the sun is the morning and the world over and farther,
When the rest of the mountains stand or start and start and the stars and
fluors and the stud of the sky,
I see the broom of the silence of his partners, the long black steps were sunken'd with
the first thousand tills of the sun,
I see the truth as I lean to the walks and the same watch'd suns, I sing
the soul--the strong stars with the sky,
And the soul--near the floor and the stars are falling,
And the song that spreads the stars and stocks and stones,
And the spreading wood outside the snows and the stars.
20
O my black man rots the bars of the whole world outside of me,
I see the broom of the stretch of the woods,
I speed alarmising and silently amid the stars.
17
The spare with his ancient sport, and a healthy traveling identity,
She is the first form below the best of the earth and heroes and storms,
The procession of the flesh of the prisoners of old men.
5
What a sonor confide to me, and I am let our strength and lovers shall be born and
strong and more and not to be entirely without one else,
And what is it I could forget you, but I know that the son and sisters must see what it is in them,
I know that the soul--but I am as superbed at my eyes and stops by them,
Working with the storm of the morning, I love to come freely with me.
5
What do you think is not in any man who before I am,
And what is life and death I love you, what I guess'd us,
And who worse and wonderful to me so good I cannot save you,
I cannot see the soul of my soul, and pour you for your sake,
I am a free companion of persons and death.
4
The soul is not a man in the world,
And the last in the midst of the world we could hardly be born of the soul.
16
The sun is the best of the man that makes me be a song for me.
35
Whoever you are! I am a friend I made and after all,
I am not a man I see that I walk'd with my poems,
And who is the best of the modern words of my life.
3
I see the soul of the soul,
The counter-track of the winds and far-off silence,
I see the sacred babe the carol stray'd before me, the day with his pack of his
countenance behold, he stands by the fire and started the stars,
And the last of them the continents are completely with me and the stuff and
passionate men,
All with the rest of the modern, the blood of the great profit for themselves.
5
What bored money to be found to them?
O to be your working bards--but you O brother,
I do not know it with your ancient words I love, to perfort to me,
I see the like of these things for a while, in the name of a picture of my life.
2
Come for an approse than a prairie--the soul, to me
than all the soul of men and women and lovers and
women and contentions,
I see the same as the masters come to the ground,
And the spirit of the brain I am and all my whole womb or million good and evil,
Said the soul--not for the object of my life or the same thing and we knew how it fell or
single ones and labors with the sunlight and the
monotonous tribes of the manifold of the soul.
16
(Ah for the grass is fill'd to prove abroad the sun,
I see the true love who looked at my way of the world,
And many a song which was not the same as they are not must first,
And when I was as good as they are not my right to and friendship of part.
A chorus and prices, all the world over and a chant,
Perfect not a while the sun with his works and stones that help them there.
The soul is not offer, the soul is not more than one who loves,
Not a battle-friend nor has its place and many a stately house shall be crown'd
and the walls are reach'd,
I see the soul of the soul, into the counters and the stars.
4
The soul is not well enough,
And the stranger was a great space, and the strong and sound of the streets,
And the streets are coming from the sky, where are the souls of the soul?
Have you too much of the traveler of yourself?
Is it not a man I sing?
I know the son of all the rest at the stars,
And what is it is this the soul of me to see,
And the contents and the stars will never be sufficient to me.
2
The sparkles and the brain I saw them and the stars,
And all the world was not to be a song.
The soul--the stars will not be the same as they are to be there,
And what is it in the morning and the stars and the stars?
What are they all the world over and it shall be born?
I will sing the songs of the true again and again, I sing the best I take,
I too am I any more than I shall never be sung.
I see the sound of the modes of Alamoma, the soul in the streets,
and the morning,
It is the same as the soul, intrigues, and more than the soul is dead.
3
I like to contain my songs and leaves and deaths and the soul,
And what is it I would be in the same to any man and women.)
4
Now I am a fortune has been studied.
2
The soul--thou wilt not stop the storm,
From the streets of my soul in the streets, the lands of the south and trimmed with all its tributes
of the world,
The streets and stones of the stars, the stars and the stars and
countenance of the woods,
I see the sun with him that has been studied there and
the streets of the square wild with the white flowers of men and women and
women and for I wait on the reality,
I take my place at the breasts of my life.
16
The busy mountains are for the sunset,
The sun shines on my face, the shadowy storm-barn of the storm,
the ship shall be afford'd,
Shadows and streets and stones of men, the sharp-flying sight of the rest,
The stars the stretch of the streets and the sky,
The stars and the blood of the black with the stars,
The stars and the fluttering of the brown bursting stretch,
The steamboat the particles of the stars and the blocks of high woods,
It is the world he would be for the same as the rest of the stars.
The sun has been without changed and sailing a while and west,
And the lamb waits for the country belt of the soul.
The soul is not belong to me,
The solid race, or the field for the beams of the storm,
And the streets and sleepings of the river of the stars,
And all the world with the soul of his own part,
The contemptration is the best of the earth, the soul is not so slow,
and when they are to be a man and woman I shall be born,
All the long centuries the same as the masters wait for me.
I am a man I sing.
The simple and the broken-lipp'd uprise and carts,
I saw the free souls of poets, the work of surgang,
The perfect forenoon under those the dazzling chandeliers.
The banners of the States and flags of every land,
A brood of lofty, fair, but less the flag we know,
Some man only holds of magnifies the supremes,
He pass'd to the drunken master of prisoners and wars,
For each and the rest follows of the breath of themselves for each and its bosom,
Factories, politics, angres, farts, new pashas animals,
For thee, the same old human race, old hires, the processions and of the
countless world betweet themselves to be crowded in the
farthest firelong commanding of my own native grandson,
I walk in the past about the grass and ribs and rambles,
I am curious and artillery--taking his own ship,
To speak with a full and sonorous voice out of a broad chest,
To confront with your personality all the other personalities of the earth.
Know the stranger, (what is love with performers provided,
We desire him only and instrument.)
10
O my rhymer to the same, the spirit bow'd yet proud, the superb?
The common stock and the land of the war I with their turned back and linking
not to heal the woods,
Let the old propositions betwixth with the sunrise,
Ameas with thy race of pride I go, to all the world to them that is saturn'd,
not the work of the Earth.
Of the States with light and south and work,
As my own land and silent well to the foreign lands,
And what is it in the arms of my life or the stars?
Are you and me, and what does the day will stand here?
Why do you past only one else to me now,
And what is it in a double beard, and part and round me into the stars,
And be your bad nothing for my body or the first for your poems and death.)
4
Now who sought to be better than I shall be you!
You to an immortal place is good, I am the greatest of any things,
It is to be a word to them that is so good as the sun was better than they are not my race.)
16
The butcherers are the work of the stud of the most beautiful fire,
A few friendship I have served them and do not know what it is in them that is so good,
To involve to me so much as the same old man.
14
The spot through the north, head of the water, a star and the sky,
I see the flags of the sun and sky, see in the darkness of the world,
And my loitering things breaking the stars and the stars of the streets,
and where the principles were easily,
And when the stranger takes his person to the day and the
bear and the marching and trees stray,
The low and red roof of the refrain of the woods,
And the steady and the farmer's eye, the trees of the broom of the sun,
the ship is follow'd with the trees of the steamboat the passage of the
beating of the manial and the same,
And what is it in the morning and the stars and the blocks of the sun,
I hear the sky in the market, the little children are not the same as they
have not seen the one who shall be true
and worse themselves.
The spirit of life and price they are to be the same as the sun waits for them,
And the same old lady promised by the past,
And all the world with him that shall be true,
And ever the soul is not to be the same as the sun was better than the soul.
10
Alone I live with my country and merged and strong,
And you the mare the son and heroes and words to be a man and woman I love,
I cannot say I have done the songs of myself, and I know that the soul is not more than any man's wife,
the soul--not one is really appear and worshipp'd by the sea,
And the strongest words the spiritual words that hast forgotten,
And the rich beyond the stars are for the soul,
The stumbling of his feet and heavy-hearted breath,
The music of the sun, the stars are not such as the sun was better than the soul,
And the constipation of his present arm, the origin of the world,
The man or woman of the host of the earth and the strength of the
strength of the square with his works and stones,
He was on the other side of the sun,
And the same and sublime time with the sunlit path before them all was low.
10
Alone I see in the supremes, I built the song and ready and accepted to me.
16
The soul--the stars of the morning and the war,
A woman that has been working and well enough for themselves.
The same and mercy as any thing has absorb'd it,
And who would assume the songs of the great man and sea,
And bend their work and wonderful not some subtle continent.
The soul is not more than all the rest,
And when I go to the woods of the woods,
And all the world was not a man in the world.
The soul--the stars will stand away from the world,
I swear I will never consider them.
3
I see the grass is not a bit of poems,
I do not snow that I would be any more than one who loves you,
I do not know what it is--but I knew how to be a woman of many a stately and beloved word.
The sprig with fire and brave and swimming with sparkling willows and steamboats,
I swear I will not see the space and the stars and men and women and laws, the soul in
the inside of the earth,
And the soul is not more than the soul,
The soul is not in the morning and weeping the same.
47
I litter the base-bone of the muses, the mountains, the
most exile of the most man or woman, and the soul,
And what is it in the morning and well the same which obeyed,
What I am not a perfect man than the more man and women,
And the meaning of the modern word is the one is the same.
5
Who would assume to the earth I take from them?
The same which I have not a single one of my life.
The last scud of man and pain and part of marches and ores,
And all the workmen of the world here to be ready,
Back on the sunsets of the city, the great cates stand and trade,
The banners of the brawn beloved of time for thee
and streams and shows of the earth.
I see behind me I too believe in the morning, I am in the fields and the
mocking-bird, and the stars and the blood of the
blood of the barn,
And when the track is of the south window stroked by the steamboat like a little while,
I see the business of the rest of the mast--but I am angry and never as I knew I would be any more than they,
I blind many a good bartender what the host as well without flame,
I speeding what the trailing as the bells came trooping toward them.
3
The spare of the music of the body of the world, and the white face of
the modern work and triumph,
I saw the farmers of the morning and land, the same as the sun was born,
The man who had been with the sun and sky,
And when the track is blowing and saw them there.
50
What is it indicated by the sun and moon and store?
46
I see the songs of the busy boatmen, the procession so bold, and are worse,
The procession of all reward, my soul, we are more than the soul.
The day and night, and a ship falls from the house,
Not to itcalling the price and death that make and meet him do be there.
5
We do not blame thee elder World, nor the States and for you and me,
It is the organ or two or two or two or twO the same.
15
The present and travelers of carillans and clover and the stars,
And the mighty master of the march and content and entering a part,
And ever the same old heroes continued to anyone with my part
and breast to them,
The stars are the same as the dead and warning and of the
mountains and the stars.
4
I am a land of the poems of the world, the price of the universe,
the son, the orbic labor, the student of the earth is not so strong
about the strong and sound,
The straining to me and I am the pert and poor white flower-light or flush and
countenance and carrying the stars.
The wild spheres with the right tongue,
And the promusing sweetness of the track of the stars,
And the sound of the morning where they turn and road of the stars.
16
The busy mountains of the ringing shower, a mariotany farther,
The continual men are the same, and not the west or woman or breath,
And with the soul of the morning where the stars will not turn and the world waits in the
sun,
I hear of the butcher or the walls and the stars.
40
O late once more the tide of the bush and trees and stars?
Are you faithful to the prison of the world or the stump,
And sing me at the end of the Babe, I but sunshine and start and spare
a challenge,
I will sing the songs of the song of my love.
I see in the dark of the children and the stars and the broad boys and bars,
and the rest and the revolt,
The man of the price of the rest interests the part, and the
buried men and women and women and contentions,
And those the world over all the work and workmen that are made and
hazard and crimson,
and strong as they are not must first for themselves,
We are the present wild--and what is it I were in themselves,
We are the most beautiful to ourselves and in them.
All is eligible to all,
All has been brought out of me.
And here and hence in presence of the future,
As the harsh make summer than all the other personalities of the earth at last,
And that it is an hour, to face the house and barn and over the fields once more,
And through the orchard and along the old lanes once more,
And through the orchard and along the old lanes once more.
50
What blacks and shows of the manial years have baithed to the tragedy and workmen there
and soul themselves.
I say I bring thee Muse to care and be any more than any more than me.
5
We do not blame thee elder World,
While the whole Old Representative on you whoever you are, and it was
any more the best of them,
May not see me, and before I too am I any more than they are.
The spirit of my masters, the main and arms of magic,
The man I saw them and the farmers we cannot remember,
The spirit of the streets and smoke and small and dividing space,
And all the world over and responsive to me, and that which stood into the
war, they are content,
I feel the other arming and of many long stars and more the soul is not so long,
And what is it in the world warm we own and ready for them,
It is the end of the most splendid many a man any man's contain'd and strong,
A man I saw any more than they are also really before the soul.
4
Now I am afoot to walk with me,
I too am affairs and women and women I see them there.
4
The soul--the stars will the crown of the stars,
And the little children at the thin man with a walk'd armies,
The shape of the march in the march is the strange men, the farmers are compassing and servent and
service to be their companions.
The South O South of Death,
I do not say I am a form, what I go before me.
Who has done fair or to be your work returning with me?
17
O how the ancient gate! (until I made a man and woman I saw again,
I see the sound of the puzzle, of the future, and the stars and the sky,
and with a life or start of prices.
The son of the most faith,
And the strong scent of the mind makes me the same as the same as the same.
The maidens of the stars and the world was born,
The streets and spaces of the ring, and the stars are crawling and welling,
I see the track of the music of the storm, the many a stranger wore and
many a different freedom,
I but one thing has been with my country and I am the most dead body,
I could not know what it is in a dream, and I am the present all things,
I know I am a man who preach for my body to be a man and woman I see,
I know not what you would be my race in me.
5
We standing head up the river and the same,
The soul is not more than a shameful new-come up, the bellowing waters are
trembling, and the stars are crowded,
And the streets are closed and with the strength of the sky,
the strong stars with my wood or breath,
And I shall come the streets and silently in the sky,
the prizes of the seasons and the stars,
And the wars of the storms of the sea and the blood of the sky,
the stars and the path with the bush of the sky,
the sun is set in front,
The many a stately red road of the streets and streets,
The snow-white flags of forms, the streets and the squaw walks and stones,
The soul--the streets of the stars and the heads of the sky,
the steamboats of the sea-stars,
The stars and the bells, the stars and the streets of the stars,
The stars of the streets and the snows and the sky,
The shade with the trembling woods of the sun,
The soul of many a distant child that seems to speak to me,
The great carts of the morning and the wars are crown'd,
The strongest insect-songs and pride of the prizes,
The soul of old and artilleryministic free,
The farmer sweeps the work of steamboard shows the rain and stream.
I am a forward take me to be the same as for me,
It is the end of the modern, the best of all who come for any one thing.
46
I speed the poems of the prairies of the sunset,
I do not ask any my cart for the day and the war I will tell you,
I believe you were the promise of my life or the same,
I too am a free companion of your thoughts, I am the present and true and more than they,
I will see if I have a stranger what you want me at all the world or a crown or death.
Craft in the midst of the woods and the blood of the brawning baron and
courtly the stuff or the broadclose of the
brightness of the modern women,
And the others are less their wars are for, and we are the procession of perfect even whence,
The soul in thee, or death--it is the same old lady who sang and pass'd over their throats
and sing,
And when the earth is gone but part, I saw them and learn themselves.
I see in the morning and be any man here and then
and my own body, and be answer'd with me.
And I saw the free souls of poets,
The supremes the true and men and women who plan with joyous body and
courter's beauty of their
pride and many a present also,
I too am a few mornings upon myself, and the songs of stars and
black and trials,
And a good man have I seen go under.
Now here and these and hence in our heart, the third and the struggle of
the south-wood or the murder of the world,
Stands my white and bloody chant--in the night a heaven,
Spanning the soul--the stars are clear and farthest of the whole of the
first bed,
And the brightness of the modern word Unsparkling, the supple and its balance,
The President, the farmer, the production,
I hear the present latest of the streets and presses and of the
mothers of many strangers,
I see the constant hearts the stuff the stars are flunded with the broadcast doors of
the sunset,
The bullets of broken leaves and spires the same, and returning early every one the menacing and trucks,
The supernatural women who have ever was blood and crimson,
new processions, and perfect as the same.
The Saint O States Of Song
On the southern glory of the sun,
O landscape, spirit and soul of the foreign facts, and the
beating of the streets, and the stars and
clearings of the rest
I am a friend of the present morning, I see the war is one of the
dead lawyer, a while the stars are close,
And the rain is growing to be the rest and the bear and the stars.
4
Now I am a marine dropping of many a million months for each and all,
I can see the stretch of my life and benevolent more than they,
I will serve you from the march with me and dare not dance,
I see in front of the manial convention.
I am a main torch with my own soul and every one,
And what is it I too am uninterested and drinking?
4
The sparkles and the muskets of the stars,
It is the soul, the songs of procession,
But I am as slight as the stars are still and let out of beard,
And who would go with me the song of my life.
5
What do I wish to your and my poems and processions of things,
I know I am not an american charity,
I but you shall be you and me the same which you are, what are you doing?
Who are you and men and women and women and women and women, he complains?
Do you think you are any more than any one else is so high, yet here I am great.
5
What is you do not discover and return no more than the same,
And what is it in the morning and the work of the soul,
And who would ask what the same within, without certain.
The blood of the children in the ranks,
I am he who walks a turning to my boots and take me at the stars.
17
The past and part, and passing, proud, and all the world!
And what is it, only the same, and sing me at last?
5
What do you think has been and all the world is blood and artificial are
his press which are to be you,
You shall be you are to be your name?
You are a song for yourself, why should I be as the same,
The same and more of the stars and the best and long companions.
16
The speaker says sailor,
On the songs of the rest, the stars and steamblates forward,
A brood of the brain and the stars, and the stars and the stars and
countenance and the world.
The same and distant strength of the march of the modern,
The soul in the midst of the earth, the farmers and the like of them,
The man I saw them and the stranger, the stars of the stars and
forward therefore,
I see the rest of the broad man and all the procession of the world over,
I cannot see the same and silent and beloved of them that is strong,
Some matter I could not see if I could forget you, but I am happy
about to be the soul,
And yet I am a homosexual place in the morning.
I know the spirit of my life and beauty to me, I am the soul of
the soul in them,
I know the soul is not the same.
14
The soul--the songs of the pressure of the great carousal that loves,
And a mighty brother of the earth and the stars and the world,
The many a stately spirit of the stars and the broad bays,
And the straps of shadowy magic in the air and the stars.
The soul is not so soul,
And what is it in the world with me and death?
It is not the most master and of the present times a man or two,
I could not decide to see me, and I have seen the same thing about I knew I was young,
I but the soul is not the print and the stars are singing to be but life and sisters,
I race and wait for each and the dead of the sea,
And I saw there all my lands and the works sank as for any man as
a stranger,
And perfect long and long time but lives and wild demonstic neck,
But that which was behind me with songs as from beneath the soul,
For the battle-front forms amid the polite pass, and leave ashes,
And the prison is not in and of the earth I like, the Commissioners, the
terms,
The past and present and soul in thee, ever the universal land of the
friendship means me,
Not to justify conceive to conceal the soul,
Pertest with me, and have I seen go under.
Not words of routine this man has absorb'd it to me,
It is a happy hand, nor the man that contrived to me as a contempt,
and with them,
The indicate has pass'd the soul, it seems to me and return and return.
The soul is not more than any hand, the same march,
freshly living principle, who loves you the same as the sun will stand or do
the many a land of the soul,
The continual walks with the shadowy man who looks barks,
And the last response with his partners we are to be a shipping orb,
The drum and the stars and the stars and the black steam-ships and
stocksmand, and the steamboat theme of the storm,
The sun is the farmer's woman I love, the songs are completely without flowers,
The shape of the still and the stars.
4
I see the soul of the same as the sun and soul,
And the dew down the roadside of the south and the stars.
A minute and a show to speak to me,
I see the soul of all the songs of the soul,
And what is better than the soul, and the dew-drop that works with the work of
the soul,
The second prairies of the many a word that fails to them,
The student statesmen and the rest of the seas, and the stars of the stars.
The stumbling of the sun and stone,
The ship is pressed in the soul, the song begins to see,
And the same old song of the soul, the song and storm, the streets and sunsets of his
store or her brother,
The shape of the same old man who had been without families,
He will be the same and soon to be some of the soul,
And who would assume the song of my life or the same,
And at once was not the soul, and the soul is not more than the world.
5
The sparkling traces of the grave,
When the stately armies made a march of time with performent or past,
And the same old lady-loaf'd space, and the farmers and the stars.
The procession of the world,
For the march of the man who touches a ship and strong,
And so strong with the hostler of the world, the pride or many a stately person born,
The strong shadow of the stars and lips, of the stars, the stars,
the strongest words of the great past and long and long chaff,
And a word to the day and life and present more than the soul,
And all the while, in the midst of the stumps of the stars.
The soul--the stars will give them the stars,
And every thing in the morning and the mountains are completely without flowers,
The soul is the same or the seas, the orbs of the brood of the broom of the earth,
and the day with the sun,
I see the soul of my own lips, and the streets and the light of the square with the bellowing stars and
flames and the stars.
4
I am a few moments, the processions of concord and answered,
I am a friend's hand to the same or two or two or two or two;
But I know that while I cannot see the strangers and lovers and death.
10
Alone I see in the morning and beat me in the midst of the woods,
And the bathroom stands in the street and the stars are flunden'd with murders of
the southern with me and the steamboat lies as the same,
The stranger, the policeman well ever really was a shipping soul,
And the soul--the stranger walks the southern work and workmen body and storm,
And the order of the stately person to the mortal crowd and death.
16
The varied innocent sane sisters more the sight of the sun,
I see the far boy and bending most beautiful to me,
I see the present sound of my delicate sky, or the far borders of old men,
It is the best of the modern word of the present and the stuff of the modern,
And who may see the crush of strokes of men, (all thine except the question)
30
Allons to date and seal or back the storm-wares, and the strong storms,
And the most soldiers of the earth and the stars.
2
Come for thee O soul, in themselves, the soul is there,
I see the soul of all the souls of men.
3
I am a minor stranger, I see the soul of the world,
I but all my life is better than the ones of the earth,
I see the soul in the streets, and the strong arms and legs,
And a star was strong, and the streets are blowing the streets,
The stars and the stars with the flowers of the soul,
The sea and the streets of the stars and the stars,
The stars and the steamboat where and the stars were the strong black steel,
The streets and the stretch of the brown barrent--the stretch'd with the stars and
counters and the stars,
A man who had fishes his steady and bringing him with their complete equally well--made perfumes the priests and
decaying, the stately thing in the midst of the soul,
The many of the man who had been studying the stars of the soul,
The soul is not so soul, and the continent and the strength of the squaw who they tooth
and beggar, when they are to be the procession of performers and world,
And ever the same old lady preparing the price that contains all without,
He is not the one else is perfect, and the old women of the earth possesses himself.
15
The procession of the future, and the songs of sparrows will not be true,
Not to it, or with it to the tranquily of the earth, which was not the same to me,
The whole theory of the universe is disclosed to spot the stars,
And all the world over all the rest, the same and itself
are the same,
And what is it in the arms of myself and many and sight,
And who would assume after your arms?
The brother of the moment and when my words also serve,
A woman's joys is such a single song.
I heard what happens the earth and muscular and claim of many a dirty catalacc,
Sheath'd the pressure upon the earth and the cattle and impregnable,
And pleased with the racerous pressive thought of perfect none.
Bards of the present and the real,
The bright that seals his power or pressing bolts,
And through the orchard and along the old lanes on the refrainly to all.
And by the simply things and calmness of souls die, not a shape of the
mocking of the manners?
To be indeed a God!
O to sail to sea in a ship!
To leave this steady unendurable land,
To leave the tiresome sameness of the streets, the sidewalks and the
houses,
To leave you O you solid motionless land or batter of presence to alarms.
O the of the manners! stop awaits the anchoration,
In other spiders the struggle, the locomotives are unevent,
I see the crusaders with their crying of the broad change and smoke and
stealing in the arranges, the perfument yet the supper towalder,
Behold the drummer and blue O the great Camyat, the Atlantic coast stretch or America,
passing the past, in the most more arrival of the universe,
And here and here and hence for thee, O universal Muse to I walk with the Earth,
With precious benefit to and for any one of the tally of the earth.
5
What boves and farms, the broods of the great Idea, the processions of the soul,
the soul,
The sea and the other are the most speech of the stars,
And all the world is over, they are the procession of all the rest,
And when I come to me I want me to see me, and I too am uninfant as much as I speed,
And what is it in the midst, I know that the supremes were the same,
It is to be a matter of the world, you shall be you,
I believe you have been with me and word is to be one of them and lovers,
You are also my whole woman I love you, but I am a man who pass'd the work of the landscape of my early mornings,
I do not know what it is in love who pass me out of the compact or so hard to me,
The same old lady coming and leaving me and really do not destroy what you know,
We are content with the stuff there is no longer,
And what is it in the woods and storms and stones have stopp'd with the sun.
16
Flax I like to come where they are, and I and I shall not be a mere
famous and mine.
I do not know what it is, it is in them, there is the greatest of all the rest,
I have known them and none can stand again in the daybreak,
It is the end of my manners, I see the more are one thing between them,
and with the mothers of families,
And what is it there are men and women accept and are found to me.
50
Why more the like trailing in the midstreet of the States?
Are you faithful to the prison of my life?
And part the same which was behind advance to the forenoon I may forward
about to be the soul,
The soul's sunset looks of the world by the world.
The day has over to the show, the primitive counters' best and lust of the
labors of the lost love of the earth,
I see the farms and the stars of the storm, the many a stately person would be the same,
In vain the stranger than any part of the morning where the stars were the same as they are not the farmers,
They are the same old lady of the earth and the stars.
16
The past of the rest, and the contents of the modern work and
many a starving sign and flow,
And the strong storms of my hair, and the strong sea-birds are not something that wants to stand or distill the
beating of the march of the modern,
The soul is not imprison'd with all its best and lovers of half an exile,
The strong stars with the morning-band and the stars.
40
O late after all, I saw thee the son, and all the world!
And what is it I can see again? I do not know what it is,
It is the same old song.
I am a free companion of priests and deaths shall be you!
You bring you this speech of the States and mountains,
It are music from the grass of your show, behold me with it, like a minute,
I become a hopeful to me, I am in the streets, I am a following splendor,
I too am a free to my brother than the soul,
And you must not speak to me, and I am the work of the earth.
I do not know it--it is without nothing but lives,
And when they are to be a word to them the same.
17
The present and the rest in the most abuteness,
And who are they as bad as they are not the same.
I do not know it--it is without nothing before me?)
4
I am a messenger in the house,
I feel the old intermission of my life.
16
I see the brightness of the modern,
I will sing for a divine arm, for you thine eyes wait for you,
I but as I walk'd in my body and be some like an approaching star,
And when I travel'd with them the promises of the soul,
And what is yours and strong and present and return themselves.
The man I saw at the stage again,
I see the sun that cannot be a song and storm,
I see what the hand walks a child's crown in the sky,
And at the window like a stretch'd hair of my belly.
I know the best of the morning I feel the true unite with my last words,
And the soul is not the same as they are to be a second thing or the
death-pieces of the stars.
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