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To the garden, the world, anew ascending,
  Potent mates, daughters, sons, preluding,
  The love, the life of their bodies, meaning and being,
  Curious, here behold my resurrection, after slumber;
  The revolving cycles, in their wide sweep, have brought me again,
  Amorous, mature—all beautiful to me—all wondrous;
  My limbs, and the quivering fire that ever plays through them, for
        reasons, most wondrous;
  Existing, I peer and penetrate still,
  Content with the present—content with the past,
  By my side, or back of me, Eve following,
  Or in front, and I following her just the same.
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