National Geographic : 1994 Dec
s M r R 4' ! AL#4, IWIL Ilk VP.4. 041 'Ilk 0 V11 lq. You sea! I resign myself to you also -I guess what you n 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 o sight of the land, Cushion me soft, rock me in billowy drowse, Dash me with amorous wet, I can repay you. SONG OF MYSELF Bucking stormy seas, a lifeguard rides the surf off Montauk, New York - Walt Whitman's youthful swimming grounds. Sprinting on New York beaches, Whitman hurled lines of poetry at the waves.