From Montauk Point

From ImmortalPoetry
Jump to navigationJump to search

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.


Add your comment
ImmortalPoetry welcomes all comments. If you do not want to be anonymous, register or log in. It is free.