Walt Whitman(1819–1892) · Leaves of Grass · Sands at Seventy · 1888
In some unused lagoon, some nameless bay, On sluggish, lonesome waters, anchor’d near the shore, An old, dismasted, gray and batter’d ship, disabled, done, After free voyages to all the seas of earth, haul’d up at last and hawser’d tight, Lies rusting, mouldering.