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Poem by Walt Whitman Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 7. A Font of Type This latent mine—these unlaunch'd voices—passionate powers, Wrath, argument, or praise, or comic leer, or prayer devout, (Not nonpareil, brevier, bourgeois, long primer merely,) These ocean waves arousable to fury and to death, Or sooth'd to ease and sheeny sun and sleep, Within the pallid slivers slumbering. Walt Whitman Walt Whitman's other poems:
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