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!
She swiftly courses from the shore;
Joy! shipmate--joy!
More verses by Walt Whitman
- Sparkles From The Wheel
- Native Moments
- Me Imperturbe
- Hush'D Be The Camps Today
- In The New Garden In All The Parts