The Dismantled Ship

From ImmortalPoetry
Jump to navigationJump to search

from Leaves of Grass: BOOK XXXIV. SANDS AT SEVENTY - by Walt Whitman.

  In some unused lagoon, some nameless bay,
  On sluggish, lonesome waters, anchor’d near the shore,
  An old, dismasted, gray and batter’d ship, disabled, done,
  After free voyages to all the seas of earth, haul’d up at last and
      hawser’d tight,
  Lies rusting, mouldering.

 


Add your comment
ImmortalPoetry welcomes all comments. If you do not want to be anonymous, register or log in. It is free.