Authors get paid when people like you upvote their post.
If you enjoyed what you read here, create your account today and start earning FREE STEEM!
Sort Order:  

ebebn

Me handle not nor spare not;

Who made America,

The little tyrant of his fields withstood,

The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,

Young are we, so hard a law,

That into rags would rend ye,

But in the importance and noise of to-morrow

And I have known the eyes already, known them all—

Shall we avoid them as unlucky places?

In whose blent air all our compulsions meet,

The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,

When the wind blows the water white and black.

which flows out of the core