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!

Poet: Walt Whitman
Poem: 8. Joy, Shipmate, Joy!
Volume: Leaves of Grass
- 21. Now Finale to the Shore
Year: Published/Written in 1900
Poem of the Day: Apr 14 2006
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