Walt Whitman
Song of Myself
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 billowing drowse,
Dash me with amorous wet,
I can repay you.
Photo taken on a Suffolk beach.
(Not one of my own poems!...I wish...but I love this .)
