Poem by Walt Whitman

Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. Fancies at Navesink. 6. Proudly the Flood Comes In

Proudly the flood comes in, shouting, foaming, advancing,
Long it holds at the high, with bosom broad outswelling,
All throbs, dilates—the farms, woods, streets of cities—workmen at work,
Mainsails, topsails, jibs, appear in the offing—steamers' pennants
      of smoke—and under the forenoon sun,
Freighted with human lives, gaily the outward bound, gaily the
      inward bound,
Flaunting from many a spar the flag I love.

1. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 42. While Not the Past Forgetting
2. Leaves of Grass. 21. Drum-Taps. 35. How Solemn As One by One [Washington City, 1865]
3. Leaves of Grass. 30. Whispers of Heavenly Death. 5. Yet, Yet, Ye Downcast Hours
4. Leaves of Grass. 35. Good-Bye My Fancy. 7. The Pallid Wreath
5. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 28. Old Salt Kossabone

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