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50 I am the poet of the woman the same as the man, And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a
 * man,

And I say there is nothing greater than the mother
 * of men.

I chant the chant of dilation or pride, We have had ducking and deprecating about enough, I show that size is only development.

Have you outstript the rest? Are you the President? It is a trifle—they will more than arrive there every
 * one, and still pass on.

I am He that walks with the tender and growing
 * Night,

I call to the earth and sea, half-held by the Night.

Press close, bare-bosomed Night! Press close,
 * magnetic, nourishing Night!

Night of south winds! Night of the large few stars! Still, nodding night! Mad, naked, summer night.

Smile, O voluptuous, cool-breathed Earth! Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees! Earth of departed sunset! Earth of the mountains,
 * misty-topt!

Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon, just
 * tinged with blue!

Earth of shine and dark, mottling the tide of the
 * river!

Earth of the limpid gray of clouds, brighter and
 * clearer for my sake!