A carol closing sixty-nine--a resume--a repetition, My lines in joy and hope continuing on the same, Of ye, O God, Life, Nature, Freedom, Poetry; Of you, my Land--your rivers, prairies, States--you, mottled Flag I love, Your aggregate retain’d entire--Of north, south, east and west, your items all; Of me myself--the jocund heart yet beating in my breast, The body wreck’d, old, poor and paralyzed--the strange inertia falling pall-like round me, The burning fires down in my sluggish blood not yet extinct, The undiminish’d faith--the groups of loving friends.