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Some years ago— having nothing on shore
I find myself growing grim about the mouth;
whenever its November in my soul;
when I find my coffin knocking — I account
This is my substitute for pistol and ball.
I take to ship. Manhattoes, belted round
by wharves as Indian isles by coral
surround her waterward extreme down-town
where noble mole is washed by waves, and cooled
by breezes, out of sight, look at the crowds
the city dreamy Sabbath afternoon
like silent sentinels all around the town
look oer extremest limit of the land
as nigh the water as they possibly can