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208 The gentleman of perfect blood acknowledges his perfect
 * blood,

The insulter, the prostitute, the angry person, the
 * beggar, see themselves in the ways of him—he
 * strangely transmutes them,

They are not vile any more—they hardly know themselves,
 * they are so grown.

Do you think it would be good to be the writer of
 * melodious verses?

Well, it would be good to be the writer of melodious
 * verses;

But what are verses beyond the flowing character you
 * could have? or beyond beautiful manners and
 * behavior?

Or beyond one manly or affectionate deed of an apprentice-boy?
 * or old woman? or man that has
 * been in prison, or is likely to be in prison?



startles me where I thought I was safest, I withdraw from the still woods I loved, I will not go now on the pastures to walk, I will not strip the clothes from my body to meet my
 * lover the sea,

I will not touch my flesh to the earth, as to other
 * flesh, to renew, me.