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!