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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
FANCIES AT NAVESINK: 4, by WALT WHITMAN Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Last of ebb, and daylight waning Last Line: On for your time, ye furious debouche! | |||
Last of ebb, and daylight waning, Scented sea-cool landward making, smells of sedge and salt incoming, With many a half-caught voice sent up from the eddies, Many a muffled confession -- many a sob and whisper'd word, As of speakers far or hid. How they sweep down and out! how they mutter! Poets unnamed -- artists greatest of any, with cherish'd lost designs, Love's unresponse -- a chorus of age's complaints -- hope's last words, Some suicide's despairing cry, Away to the boundless waste, and never again return. On to oblivion then! On, on, and do your part, ye burying, ebbing tide! On for your time, ye furious debouche! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A CAROL CLOSING SIXTY-NINE by WALT WHITMAN A CLEAR MIDNIGHT by WALT WHITMAN A FARM PICTURE by WALT WHITMAN A PRAIRIE SUNSET by WALT WHITMAN A VOICE PROPHETIC by WALT WHITMAN AN ARMY CORPS ON THE MARCH by WALT WHITMAN AN EVENING LULL by WALT WHITMAN |
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