You sea! I resign myself to you also-I guess what you mean, I behold from the beach your crooked 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 billowy drowse,Dash me with amorous wet, I can repay you.
And whoever walks a furlong without sympathy walks to his own funeral drest in his shroud.
Leaves of Grass
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And whoever walks a furlong without sympathy walks to his own funeral drest in his shroud.
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