Poem by Walt Whitman

Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 57. After the Supper and Talk

After the supper and talk—after the day is done,
As a friend from friends his final withdrawal prolonging,
Good-bye and Good-bye with emotional lips repeating,
(So hard for his hand to release those hands—no more will they meet,
No more for communion of sorrow and joy, of old and young,
A far-stretching journey awaits him, to return no more,)
Shunning, postponing severance—seeking to ward off the last word
      ever so little,
E'en at the exit-door turning—charges superfluous calling back—
      e'en as he descends the steps,
Something to eke out a minute additional—shadows of nightfall deepening,
Farewells, messages lessening—dimmer the forthgoer's visage and form,
Soon to be lost for aye in the darkness—loth, O so loth to depart!
Garrulous to the very last.

1. Leaves of Grass. 20. By the Roadside. 6. Thoughts
2. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 55. An Evening Lull
3. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. Fancies at Navesink. 6. Proudly the Flood Comes In
4. Leaves of Grass. 20. By the Roadside. 28. Offerings
5. Leaves of Grass. 24. Autumn Rivulets. 12. Outlines for a Tomb [G. P., Buried 1870]

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