I am an old artillerist, I tell of my fort's bombardment, I am there again.
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Speech is the de gokkasten 3d twin of my vision, it is unequal to measure itself, It provokes me forever, it says sarcastically, Walt you contain enough, why don't you let it out then?I ascend from the moon, I ascend from the night, I perceive that the ghastly glimmer is noonday sunbeams reflected, And debouch to the steady and central from the offspring great or small.Before I was born out of my mother generations guided me, My embryo has never been torpid, nothing could overlay.O welcome, ineffable grace of dying days!Again gurgles the mouth of my dying general, he furiously waves with his hand, He gasps through the clot Mind not me-mind-the entrenchments.I am given up by traitors, I talk wildly, I have lost my wits, I and nobody else am the greatest traitor, I went myself first to the headland, my own hands carried me there.Well I have, for the Fourth-month showers have, and the mica on de spin om te winnen geld vindictus the side of a rock has.His nostrils dilate as my heels embrace him, His well-built limbs tremble with pleasure as we race around and return.35 Would you hear of an old-time sea-fight?Why should I wish to see God better than this day?Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening, (Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute longer.) Do I contradict myself?
What do you think has become of the young and old men?
If you are like us, you have strong feelings about poetry, and about each poem you read.