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66.The negro holds firmly the reins of his four horses
—the blocks swags underneath on its tied-over
chain,
The negro that drives the huge dray of the stone-yard
—steady and tall he stands, poised on one leg on
the string-piece,
His blue shirt exposes his ample neck and breast, and
loosens over his hip-band,
His glance is calm and commanding—he tosses the
slouch of his hat away from his forehead,
The sun falls on his crispy hair and moustache—
falls on the black of his polished and perfect
limbs.

67.I behold the picturesque giant and love him—and
I do not stop there,
I go with the team also.

68.In me the caresser of life wherever moving—backward
as well as forward slueing,
To niches aside and junior bending.

69.Oxen that rattle the yoke or halt in the shade! what
is that you express in your eyes?
It seems to me more than all the print I have read in
my life.

70.My tread scares the wood-drake and wood-duck, on
my distant and day-long ramble,
They rise together—they slowly circle around.

71.I believe in those winged purposes,
And acknowledge red, yellow, white, playing within me,