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Walt Whitman · Leaves of Grass

Poem 288 of 382 · Songs of Parting

Joy, Shipmate, Joy!

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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.

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