WHAT ship, puzzled at sea, cons for the true reckoning?
Or, coming in, to avoid the bars, and follow the channel, a perfect pilot needs?
Here, sailor! Here, ship! take aboard the most perfect pilot,
Whom, in a little boat, putting off, and rowing, I, hailing you, offer.
Here, Sailor.
Analysis, meaning and summary of Walt Whitman's poem Here, Sailor.
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I swear this sounds as if my father has died! Thank you Walt you shall be cherished!