From
Leaves of Grass, by
Walt Whitman:
Fast-
anchor'd
eternal O love! O woman I love!
O
bride! O wife! more resistless than I can tell, the thought
of you!
Then separate, as
disembodied or another born,
Ethereal, the last athletic reality, my consolation,
I ascend, I float in the regions of your love O man,
O
sharer of my roving life.