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Leaves of Grass (1891-92)
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YET, YET, YE DOWNCAST HOURS.
YET, yet, ye downcast hours, I know ye also, |
Weights of lead, how ye clog and cling at my ankles, |
Earth to a chamber of mourning turns—I hear the o'erweening,
mocking voice,
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Matter is conqueror—matter, triumphant only, continues onward. |
Despairing cries float ceaselessly toward me, |
The call of my nearest lover, putting forth, alarm'd, uncertain, |
The sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me, |
Come tell me where I am speeding, tell me my destination. |
I understand your anguish, but I cannot help you, |
I approach, hear, behold, the sad mouth, the look out of the eyes,
your mute inquiry,
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Whither I go from the bed I recline on, come tell me; |
Old age, alarm'd, uncertain—a young woman's voice, appealing
to me for comfort;
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A young man's voice, Shall I not escape? |
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