Walt Whitman

Book XXXIV. Sands At Seventy: From Montauk Point

I stand as on some mighty eagle’s beak,
Eastward the sea absorbing, viewing, (nothing but sea and sky,)
The tossing waves, the foam, the ships in the distance,
The wild unrest, the snowy, curling caps—that inbound urge and urge
of waves,
Seeking the shores forever.
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