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1819–1892

Good-Bye My Fancy!

Walt Whitman

Good-bye my Fancy! Farewell dear mate, dear love! I'm going away, I know not where, Or to what fortune, or whether I may ever see you again,

So Good-bye my Fancy. Now for my last — let me look back a moment; The slower fainter ticking of the clock is in me, Exit, nightfall, and soon the heart-thud stopping.

Long have we lived, joy'd, caress'd together; Delightful!— now separation — Good-bye my Fancy. Yet let me not be too hasty, Long indeed have we lived, slept, filter'd, become really blended into one;

Then if we die we die together, ( yes, we'll remain one,) If we go anywhere we'll go together to meet what happens, May-be we'll be better off and blither, and learn something, May-be it is yourself now really ushering me to the true songs, ( who knows? )

May-be it is you the mortal knob really undoing, turning — so now finally, Good-bye — and hail! my Fancy.

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Good-Bye My Fancy! · Walt Whitman · Poetry Cove