A carol closing sixty-nine—a résumé—a repetition,My lines in joy and hope continuing on the same,Of ye, O God, Life, Nature, Freedom, Poetry;Of you, my Land—your rivers, prairies, States—you, mottled Flag I love,Your aggregate retain'd entire—Of north, south, east and west, your items all;Of me myself—the jocund heart yet beating in my breast,The body wreck'd, old, poor and paralyzed—the strange inertia falling pall-like round me,The burning fires down in my sluggish blood not yet extinct,The undiminish'd faith—the groups of loving friends.