Root of wash'd sweet-flag! Vivas to those who have fail'd! Oxen that rattle the yoke and chain or halt in the leafy shade, what is that you express in your eyes? Do you take it I would astonish? The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections, They scorn the best I can do to relate them.
Have you practis'd so long to learn to read? Come now I will not be tantalized, you conceive too much of articulation, Do you not know O speech how the buds beneath you are folded? There was never any more inception than there is now, Nor any more youth or age than there is now, And will never be any more perfection than there is now, Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now. If our colors are struck and the fighting done?
Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am, Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, unitary, Looks down, is erect, or bends an arm on an impalpable certain rest, Looking with side-curved head curious what will come next, Both in and out of the game and watching and wondering at it. I believe in those wing'd purposes, And acknowledge red, yellow, white, playing within me, And consider green and violet and the tufted crown intentional, And do not call the tortoise unworthy because she is not something else, And the in the woods never studied the gamut, yet trills pretty well to me, And the abbigliamento of the bay mare shames silliness out of me. Where are you off to, lady? Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees!
Urge and urge and urge, Always the procreant urge of the world. Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul. From the cinder-strew'd threshold I follow their movements, The lithe sheer of their waists plays even with their massive arms, Overhand the hammers swing, overhand so slow, overhand so sure, They do not hasten, each man hits in his place. My final merit I refuse you, I refuse putting from me what I really am, Encompass worlds, but never try to encompass me, I crowd your sleekest and best by simply looking toward you. Did you fear some scrofula out of the unflagging pregnancy? We also ascend dazzling and tremendous as the sun, We found our own Oppure my soul in the calm and cool of the daybreak. It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life. Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems? I am an old artillerist, I tell of my fort's bombardment, I am there again.
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Sito sviluppato Francesco Greco