the night. For I see you, You splash in the water there, yet stay stock still in your room. 34 Now I tell what I knew in Texas in my early youth, (I tell not the fall of Alamo, Not one escaped to tell the fall of Alamo, The hundred and fifty are dumb yet at Alamo 'Tis the tale of the murder. If you would understand me go to the heights or water-shore, The nearest gnat is an explanation, and a drop or motion of waves key, The maul, the oar, the hand-saw, second my words. And to those themselves who sank in the sea! I do not ask who you are, that is not important to me, You can do nothing and be nothing but what I will infold you.
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I hasten to inform him or her it is just as lucky to die, and I know. For me the keepers of convicts shoulder their carbines and keep watch, It is I let out in the morning and barr'd at night. No shutter'd room or school can commune with me, But roughs and little children better than they. Not a mutineer walks handcuff'd to jail but I am handcuff'd to him and walk by his side, (I am less the jolly one there, and more the silent one with sweat on my twitching lips.) Not a youngster is taken for larceny but. Have you heard that it was good to gain the day? In vain the speeding or shyness, In vain the plutonic rocks send their old heat against my approach, In vain the mastodon retreats beneath its own powder'd bones, In vain objects stand leagues off and assume manifold shapes, In vain the ocean settling in hollows. The last scud of day holds back for me, It flings my likeness after the rest and true as any on the shadow'd wilds, It coaxes me to the vapor and the dusk. I heard what was said of the universe, Heard it and heard it of several thousand years; It is middling well as far as it goes-but is that all? Till we find where the sly one hides and bring him forth, Ever love, ever the sobbing liquid of life, Ever the bandage under the chin, ever the trestles of death. I tramp a perpetual journey, (come listen all!) My signs are a rain-proof coat, good shoes, and a staff cut from the woods, No friend of mine takes his ease in my chair, I have no chair, no church, no philosophy, I lead no man. What behaved well in the past or behaves well to-day is not such wonder, The wonder is always and always how there can be a mean man or an infidel. 50 There is that in me-I do not know what it is-but I know it is.