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!
Public-domain source text
Joy, Shipmate, Joy!
by Walt Whitman
From Standard Ebooks · standardebooks/walt-whitman_leaves-of-grass
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