After the Sea-Ship by Walt Whitman

After the sea-ship, after the whistling winds,
After the white-gray sails taut to their spars and ropes,
Below, a myriad myriads waves hastening, lifting up their necks,
Tending in ceaseless flow towards the track of the ship,
Waves of the ocean bubbling and gurgling, blithely prying,
Waves, undulating waves, liquid, uneven, emulous waves,
Toward that whirling current, laughing, and buoyant, with curves,
Where the great vessel sailing and tacking displaced the surface,
Larger and smaller waves in the the spread of the ocean yearnfully 
     flowing,
The wake of the sea-ship after she passes, flashing and frolicsome 
     under the sun,
A motley procession with many a fleck of foam and many fragments,
Following the stately and rapid ship, in the wake following.

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