sweet reader, flanneled and tulled

Reader unmov’d and Reader unshaken, Reader unseduc’d and unterrified, through the long-loud and the sweet-still I creep toward you. Toward you, I thistle and I climb. I crawl, Reader, servile and cervine, through this blank season, counting—I sleep and I sleep. I sleep, Reader, toward you, loud as a cloud and deaf, Reader, deaf as a leaf. Reader:Why don’t you turn pale?