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Overnight at the Park Tower Hotel - Buenos Aires.
Fighting at sun-down, fighting at dark, Ten o'clock at night, the full moon well up, our leaks on the gain, and five feet of water reported, The master-at-arms loosing the prisoners confined in the after-hold to give them a chance for themselves.
That I could forget the mockers and insults!Shaded ledges and rests it shall be you!(This day I am jetting the stuff of far more arrogant republics.) To any one dying, thither I speed and twist the knob of the door.Retreating they had form'd in a hollow square with their baggage for breastworks, Nine hundred lives out of the surrounding enemies, nine times their number, was the price they took in advance, Their colonel was wounded and their ammunition gone, They treated for an honorable.It cannot fall the young man who died and was buried, Nor the young woman who died and was put by his side, Nor the little child that peep'd in at the door, and then drew back and was never seen again, Nor the old.Be at peace bloody flukes of doubters and sullen mopers, I take my place among you as much as among any, The past is the push of you, me, all, precisely the same, And what ruleta online espana latino is yet untried and afterward is for you, me, all.
Having pried through the strata, analyzed to a hair, counsel'd with doctors and calculated close, I find no sweeter fat than sticks to my own bones.
21 I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul, The pleasures of heaven are with me and the pains of hell are with me, The first I graft and increase upon myself, the latter I translate into new.
You seem to look for something at my hands, Say, old top-knot, what do you want?It is not far, it is within reach, Perhaps you have been on it since you were born and did not know, Perhaps it is everywhere on water and on land.Breast that presses against other breasts it shall be you!I do not say these things for a dollar or to fill up the time while I wait for a boat, (It is you talking just as much as myself, I act as the tongue of you, Tied in your mouth, in mine it begins.Still nodding night-mad naked summer night.What blurt is this about virtue and about vice?Before I was born out of my mother generations guided me, My embryo has never been torpid, nothing could overlay.I know I am august, I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself or be understood, I see that the elementary laws never apologize, (I reckon I behave no prouder than the level I plant my house by, after all.) I exist.8 The little one sleeps in its cradle, I lift the gauze and look a long time, and silently brush away flies with my hand.I am an old artillerist, I tell of my fort's bombardment, I am there again.You sweaty brooks and dews it shall be you!Of the turbid pool that lies in the autumn forest, Of the moon that descends the steeps of the soughing twilight, Toss, sparkles of day and dusk-toss on the black stems that decay in the muck, Toss to the moaning gibberish of the dry limbs.Cycles ferried my cradle, rowing and rowing like cheerful boatmen, For room to me stars kept aside in their own rings, They sent influences to look after what was to hold.