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.
|from Leaves of Grass: BOOK XXXIII. SONGS OF PARTING|
by Walt Whitman
|As They Draw to a Close||The Untold Want|