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Walt Whitman · Leaves of Grass

Poem 296 of 382 · Sands at Seventy

From Montauk Point

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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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