Do you guess I have some intricate purpose? Well I have, for the Fourth-month showers have, and the mica on the side of a rock has.
I refuse putting from me the best that I am.
Afoot and lighthearted I take to the open road, healthy, free, the world before me.
Unscrew the locks from the doors ! Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs !
That the hands of the sisters Death and Night incessantly softly wash again and ever again, this soiled world.
And there is no trade or employment but the young man following it may become a hero.