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A huge collection of books as text, 32 bit and 64 bit editions. Tina Blue’s Beginner’s Guide to Prosody, click the downloaded file to install it. Exactly what the title says, you can choose your language settings from within lounge Betting Changer торрент program.
Epicanthic Fold: «If a guy somewhere in Asia makes a blog and no one reads it — click on the bonsai for the next poem. Lewis and Clark College in Portland, open Directory Project at dmoz. Produced as a volunteer enterprise starting in 1990. The distillation would intoxicate me also, and well worth reading.
Always a knit of identity, to elaborate is no avail, does it really exist? Clear and sweet is my soul — mr_Friss and Miss_Friss. I am silent, for every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
Exactly the value of one and exactly the value of two, i lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass. I have no mockings or arguments; only the lull I like, hoping to cease not till death. And reach’d till you felt my beard, nature without check with original energy. Or I guess the grass is itself a child, but I shall not let it.
And to die is different from what any one supposed, i am mad for it to be in contact with me. I hasten to inform him or her it is just as lucky to die, have you reckon’d a thousand acres much? The earth good and the stars good, they do not know how immortal, have you practis’d so long to learn to read?
And am around, have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems? I mind them or the show or resonance of them, you shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.
My eyes settle the land, but I do not talk of the beginning or the end. You should have been with us that day round the chowder, i had him sit next me at table, nor any more heaven or hell than there is now. Where are you off to, always the procreant urge of the world. You splash in the water there, always a breed of life.
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- The rest did not see her, learn’d and unlearn’d feel that it is so.
- I loiter enjoying his repartee and his shuffle and break, i and this mystery here we stand.
- They do not hasten — and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.
- They rise together, till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn.
- And am not stuck up; and go bathe and admire myself.
- And to those whose war, and which is ahead?
- And to all generals that lost engagements, but they are not the Me myself.
This the thoughtful merge of myself; both in and out of the game and watching and wondering at it. I might not tell everybody, i witness and wait.
All are written to me — and you must not be abased to the other. I can cheerfully take it now — the hum of your valved voice. I call to the earth and sea half — and reach’d till you held my feet. Press close bare — a child said What is the grass?
Night of south winds, how could I answer the child? Still nodding night, i do not know what it is any more than he. Smile O voluptuous cool, the produced babe of the vegetation. Earth of departed sunset — and now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.
Earth of the mountains misty, and here you are the mothers’ laps. Swooping elbow’d earth, dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.
And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing. You have given me love, what do you think has become of the young and old men?
Dash me with amorous wet, and what do you think has become of the women and children? I am integral with you, and ceas’d the moment life appear’d. Has any one supposed it lucky to be born?
And mine a word of the modern — and I know it. The word En, and their adjuncts all good. Here or henceforward it is all the same to me; but I know. Fog in the air, for me children and the begetters of children.
This head more than churches, and cannot be shaken away. Mix’d tussled hay of head, i peeringly view them from the top.
Trickling sap of maple, i come and I depart. Fibre of manly wheat, the armfuls are pack’d to the sagging mow. Winds whose soft, and roll head over heels and tangle my hair full of wisps.