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Leaves of Grass (1871-72)
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YET, YET, YE DOWNCAST HOURS.
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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.
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2
Despairing cries float ceaselessly toward me, |
The call of my nearest lover, putting forth, alarm'd,
uncertain,
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The Sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me, |
Come tell me where I am speeding—tell me my destination. |
3
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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