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 stretch'd ground-swells!

Sea breathing broad and convulsive breaths!

Sea of the brine of life! sea of unshovell'd yet 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 Leaves of Grass