Trump’s campaign manager

Thou Mother with Thy Equal Brood
Rouse up my slow belief, give me some vision of the future
Up through the darkness
Moving with steady motion, swaying to and fro to the right and left
Pioneers! O pioneers!
She had no work to give her, but she gave her remembrance and fondness
As the ranks returning worn and sweaty, as the men file by where stand
Mortar, these dead floors, windows, rails, you call the church?
And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken

In the grandeur and exquisiteness of old age
Good as the engineers, he can make every word he speaks draw blood
Not the pilot has charged himself to bring his ship into port
Mightier than Egypts tombs
As they fall on their knees and rise again
Nor any thing in the earth, or down in the oldest graves of the earth
And below there where the boys were drilling, and up the slopes they ran
Give me fresh corn and wheat, give me serene-moving animals teaching
Every one that sleeps is beautiful, every thing in the dim light is
Realities of life, and go toward false realities

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Sanders’ last shot

Sculpture and monuments and any thing inscribed anywhere are tallied in you
At her feet fallen an unused royal harp
Nor reminiscence of any deed of courage for America
Day, for all its names
Receive them the same
Some prowling through woods, some living peaceably on farms
Lands bathed in sweeter, rarer, healthier air, valleys and mountain cliffs

All self-denial that stood steady and aloof on wrecks, and saw
Stocks, stores, real estate and personal estate
To be lost if it must be so!
Steam-saws, the great mills and factories
Hate, despair, amity, pain, theft, murder, aspiration, form in
Of grapes from the vines
That it is safe to allow it to lick my naked body all over with its tongues

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Trump’s missed opportunity

The spiritual-prescient face, the always welcome common benevolent face
Riotous laughing bacchanals filld with joy!
Upper-arm, armpit, elbow-socket, lower-arm, arm-sinews, arm-bones
My land is to me
Proud and passionate citymettlesome, mad, extravagant city!
Ah you foes that in conflict have overcome me
SANDS AT SEVENTY
I chant this chant of my silent soul in the name of all dead soldiers
Starting from fish-shape Paumanok where I was born
Ended the stately rhythmus of Una and Oriana, ended the quest of the

Done, but that will never be,
O setting sun! though the time has come
Parting trackd by arriving, perpetual payment of perpetual loan
Pyrotechny, letting off colord fireworks at night, fancy figures and jets;
Of the envelopment of all by them, and the effusion of all from them
Thou Union holding all, fusing, absorbing, tolerating all
Never again return
I go to all the places one after another, and then row back to the shore
To Thee Old Cause
You must habit yourself to the dazzle of the light and of every

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Documents Undercut U.S.

Did you think Life was so well provided for, and Death, the purport
On every step bunches of ages, and larger bunches between the steps
Celebrate you act divine and you children prepared for
Unheard by sharpest ear, unformd in clearest eye or cunningest mind
Massive, clean, bearded, tan-faced, handsome
Eyes of my soul seeing perfection
Nor returnd that afternoon, nor the next
The sailors at work in the rigging or out astride the spars
Soon to be lost for aye in the darknessloth, O so loth to depart!

Underneath them and within them I see you lurk
Now ending well in death the splendid fever of thy deeds
Distant and dead resuscitate
En-masse really are
Reaching the far-off sentry and the armed guards, who ceasd their pacing
Counter and stool, the writing-pen of quill or metal, the making
Turn from lands retrospective recording proofs of the past
Up, or finishd
Still here I carry my old delicious burdens

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Watch Live

When I peruse the conquerd fame of heroes and the victories of
And that to another, and every one to another still
To earn for the body and the mind whatever adheres and goes forward
Consort to every ship that sails, sail you!
How sweet the silent backward tracings!
Lingering Last Drops

I will not make poems with reference to parts
Vigil strange I kept on the field one night;
So soon what is over forgotten, and waves wash the imprints off the sand
Play the old role, the role that is great or small according as one
All that is well thought or said this day on any part of the globe
Not in any or all of them O adhesiveness! O pulse of my life!

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Letters to Calendar

Light, splendidly uprising toward clear skies
Every existence has its idiom, every thing has an idiom and tongue
The voice, the words
Toward twelve there in the beams of the moon they surrender to us
Ended the stately rhythmus of Una and Oriana, ended the quest of the
Roof, the masons are calling for mortar
She does not tarry to smooth her hair nor adjust her cap
The question, O me! so sad, recurringWhat good amid these, O me, O life?

O my body! I dare not desert the likes of you in other men and
Commerce opening, the sleep of ages having done its work, races
And I have said that the body is not more than the soul
Land in the realms of God to be a realm unto thyself
Each moment and whatever happens thrills me with joy
Never again return
Dark-colord sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn
All hopes, benefactions, bestowals, all the passions, loves
Repeat at Jerusalem, place the notice high on jaffas gate and on

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Sanders campaign releases

Some naked and savage, some like huge collections of insects
All distances of time, all inanimate forms
Nor alone those camps of white, old comrades of the wars
Does not repel them or the past or what they have produced under
Each of us allowd the eternal purports of the earth
Reason, articulation, comparison, memory, and the like
So hard for his hand to release those handsno more will they meet
Come lovely and soothing death
As on the road or at some crevice door by chance, or opend window
Marriage, the street, the factory, farm, the house-room, lodging-room
Peal the old cry once more

Aware now that amid all that blab whose echoes recoil upon me I have
I see the nameless masonries, venerable messages of the unknown
Green the midsummer verdure and fresh blows the dallying breeze
Nor for his mate nor himself only, nor all sent back by the echoes
Require nothing further
Examine these limbs, red, black, or white, they are cunning in
Lovers, my dear friends
Except as it results to their bodies and souls
And for thy subtler sense subtler refrains dread Mother
Scholarships, and the like;
Exactly in its orbit for ever and ever, without one jolt or
Some double the cape of Storms, some cape Verde, others capes

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Congressman to repay

Or clutchd to some young color-bearers breast with desperate hands
Noiselessly passing handfuls out of their hearts and giving them to be mine
Ripples of unseen rivers, tides of a current flowing, forever flowing
Europe to Asia, Africa joind, and they to the New World
Strike through these chants
Sketches of the sun, moon, stars, ships, ocean waves
Mans innocent and strong arenas
And mossy scabs of the worm fence, heapd stones, elder, mullein and

Not alone on those warlike fields the Mother of All
The trombone duo, Libertad forever!
Out of the rolling ocean the crowd came a drop gently to me
Regardless of others, ever regardful of others
Evil propels me and reform of evil propels me, I stand indifferent
Poems of man, only thence have my poems come;
And employments! I will put in my poems that with you is heroism
Your farm, profits, cropsto think how engrossd you are

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Sanders doubles down

Some are baffled, but that one is notthat one knows me
And the wife and the child and the musing comrade sufferd
No more the mountains roam or sail the stormy sea
Down in Texas the cotton-field, the negro-cabins, drivers driving
Every hour the semen of centuries, and still of centuries
Reasons, most wondrous
Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me
Does the daylight astonish? does the early redstart twittering

Over the Carnage Rose Prophetic a Voice
Unfolded only out of the inimitable poems of woman can come the
But you will last very long
Liberty, let others despair of youI never despair of you
Embalmd with love in this twilight song
Sing on, sing on you gray-brown bird
Old occult Brahma interminably far back, the tender and junior Buddha
Who are they I see and touch, and what about them?
Now I laugh content, for I hear the voice of my little captain

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What we learned

Without ever seeing each other, and never perhaps to see
How plenteous! how spiritual! how resume!
Arthur vanishd with all his knights, Merlin and Lancelot and
The conductor beats time for the band and all the performers follow him
Waiting to commence
Ere departing fade from my eyes your forests of bayonets;

Lies rusting, mouldering
Eldest son to you
All waits or goes by default till a strong being appears;
Rest not till you rivet and publish yourself of your own Personality
Now while the great thoughts of space and eternity fill me I will
Ended the stately rhythmus of Una and Oriana, ended the quest of the
Down in the fields all prospers well

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