Walt Whitman

Joy, Shipmate, Joy!

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!

default user
Comment Section just now

Feel free to be first to leave comment.

8/2200 - 0