Verse > Walt Whitman > Leaves of Grass
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Walt Whitman (1819–1892).  Leaves of Grass.  1900.

293. Joy, Shipmate, Joy!


JOY! shipmate—joy! 
(Pleas’d to my Soul at death I cry;) 
Our life is closed—our life begins; 
The long, long anchorage we leave, 
The ship is clear at last—she leaps!         5
She swiftly courses from the shore; 
Joy! shipmate—joy! 


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