Flaunt of the sunshine I need not your bask—lie over! You light surfaces only, I force surfaces and depths also.
Earth! you seem to look for something at my hands, Say, old top-knot, what do you want?
Man or woman, I might tell how I like you, but cannot, And might tell what it is in me and what it is in you, but cannot, And might tell that pining I have, that pulse of my nights and days.
Behold, I do not give lectures or a little charity, When I give I give myself.
You there, impotent, loose in the knees, Open your scarf’d chops till I blow grit within you, Spread your palms and lift the flaps of your pockets, I am not to be denied, I compel, I have stores plenty and to spare, And anything I have I bestow.