You sea! I resign myself to you also … . I guess what you mean,
I behold from the beach your crooked inviting fingers,
I believe you refuse to go back without feeling of me;
We must have a turn together … . I undress … . hurry me out of
sight of the land,
Cushion me soft … . rock me in billowy drowse,
Dash me with amorous wet … . I can repay you.
Sea of stretched ground-swell!
Sea of breathing broad and convulsive breaths!
Sea of the brine of life! Sea of unshovelled and always-ready graves!
Howler and scooper of storms! Capricious and dainty sea!
I am integral with you … . I too am of one phase and of all phases.
— Walt Whitman, from section 22 of “Song of Myself,” Leaves of Grass (1855 edition,) from The Oxford Book of American Poetry, ed. David Lehman (Oxford University Press, 2006)