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That Shadow, My Likeness by Walt Whitman
That shadow, my likeness, that goes to and fro, seeking a livelihood, chattering, chaffering; How often I find myself standing and looking at it where it flits; How often I question and doubt whether that is really me; --But in these, and among my lovers, and caroling my songs, O I never doubt whether that is really me.
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Race Of Veterans by Walt Whitman
Race of veterans! Race of victors! Race of the soil, ready for conflict! race of the conquering march! (No more credulity's race, abiding-temper'd race;) Race henceforth owning no law but the law of itself; Race of passion and the storm.
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There was an Old Man of the Hague by Edward Lear
There was an Old Man of the Hague, Whose ideas were excessively vague; He built a balloon, To examine the moon, That deluded Old Man of the Hague.
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Safety-Clutch by Ambrose Bierce
Once I seen a human ruin In a elevator-well. And his members was bestrewin' All the place where he had fell.
And I says, apostrophisin' That uncommon woful wreck: 'Your position's so surprisin' That I tremble for your neck!'
Then that ruin, smilin' sadly And impressive, up and spoke: 'Well, I wouldn't tremble badly, For it's been a fortnight broke.'
Then, for further comprehension Of his attitude, he begs I will focus my attention On his various arms and legs--
How they all are contumacious; Where they each, respective, lie; How one trotter proves ungracious, T' other one an alibi.
These particulars is mentioned For to show his dismal state, Which I wasn't first intentioned To specifical relate.
None is worser to be dreaded That I ever have heard tell Than the gent's who there was spreaded In that elevator-well.
Now this tale is allegoric-- It is figurative all, For the well is metaphoric And the feller didn't fall.
I opine it isn't moral For a writer-man to cheat, And despise to wear a laurel As was gotten by deceit.
For 'tis Politics intended By the elevator, mind, It will boost a person splendid If his talent is the kind.
Col. Bryan had the talent (For the busted man is him) And it shot him up right gallant Till his head began to swim.
Then the rope it broke above him And he painful came to earth Where there's nobody to love him For his detrimented worth.
Though he's living' none would know him, Or at leastwise not as such. Moral of this woful poem: Frequent oil your safety-clutch.
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