From Montauk Point

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from Leaves of Grass: BOOK XXXIV. SANDS AT SEVENTY - by Walt Whitman.

  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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