<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=535130" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Song of Myself, XI</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Twenty-eight young men bathe by the shore,<br>Twenty-eight young men and all so friendly;<br>Twenty-eight years of womanly life and all so lonesome.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She owns the fine house by the rise of the bank,<br>She hides handsome and richly drest aft the blinds of the window.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Which of the young men does she like the best?<br>Ah the homeliest of them is beautiful to her.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where are you off to, lady? for I see you,<br>You splash in the water there, yet stay stock still in your room.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dancing and laughing along the beach came the twenty-ninth bather,<br>The rest did not see her, but she saw them and loved them.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The beards of the young men glisten'd with wet, it ran from their long<br> hair,<br>Little streams pass'd over their bodies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">An unseen hand also pass'd over their bodies,<br>It descended trembling from their temples and ribs.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The young men float on their backs, their white bellies bulge to the sun,<br> they do not ask who seizes fast to them,<br>They do not know who puffs and declines with the pendant and bending<br> arch,<br>They do not think whom they souse with spray.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Walt+Whitman">Walt Whitman</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=535130" data-title="Song of Myself, XI de Walt Whitman" data-description="Twenty-eight young men bathe by the shore, Twenty-eight young men and all so friendly; Twenty-eight years of womanly life and all so lonesome. She owns the fine house by the rise of the bank, She hides handsome and richly drest aft the blinds of ..."></div> </div> </div>

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