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Leaves of Grass (1891-92)
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SAIL OUT FOR GOOD, EIDÓLON YACHT!
Raise main-sail and jib—steer forth, |
O little white-hull'd sloop, now speed on really deep waters, |
(I will not call it our concluding voyage, |
But outset and sure entrance to the truest, best, maturest;) |
Depart, depart from solid earth—no more returning to these
shores,
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Now on for aye our infinite free venture wending, |
Spurning all yet tried ports, seas, hawsers, densities, gravitation, |
Sail out for good, eidólon yacht of me! |
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