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A Carol Closing Sixty-Nine

per.00091.004per.00091.004_cropped [WRITTEN FOR THE HERALD.]

A CAROL CLOSING SIXTY-NINE.1

A carol closing sixty-nine—a résumé—a repeti- 
 tion,
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 intertia 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.
WALT WHITMAN.

Notes

1. Reprinted in the "Sands at Seventy" annex to Leaves of Grass (1888). [back]

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