Lingering Last Drops

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from Leaves of Grass: BOOKXXXV: GOOD-BYE MY FANCY - by Walt Whitman.

  And whence and why come you?

  We know not whence, (was the answer,)
  We only know that we drift here with the rest,
  That we linger’d and lagg’d—but were wafted at last, and are now here,
  To make the passing shower’s concluding drops.


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