Out of the Crowd by Walt Whitman

1. Out of the rolling ocean, the crowd, came a drop gently to me, / Whispering, _I love you; before long I die: / I have travelled a long way, merely to look on you, to touch you: / For I could not die till I once looked on you, / For I feared I might afterward lose you_.

2. Now we have met, we have looked, we are safe; / Return in peace to the ocean, my love; / I too am part of that ocean, my love -- we are not so much separated; / Behold the great _rondure_ -- the cohesion of all, how perfect! / But as for me, for you, the irresistible sea is to separate us, / As for an hour carrying us diverse -- yet cannot carry us diverse for ever; / Be not impatient -- a little space -- know you, I salute the air, the ocean, / and the land, / Every day, at sundown, for your dear sake, my love.