Sea-water, and all living below it,
Forests at the bottom of the sea — the branches and leaves,
Sea-lettuce, vast lichens, strange flowers and seeds — the thick tangle, the openings, and the pink turf,
Different colors, pale gray and green, purple, white, and gold — the play of light through the water,
Dumb swimmers there among the rocks — coral, gluten, grass, rushes — and the aliment of the swimmers,
Sluggish existences grazing there, suspended, or slowly crawling close to the bottom,
The sperm-whale at the surface, blowing air and spray, or disporting with his flukes,
The leaden-eyed shark, the walrus, the turtle, the hairy sea-leopard, and the sting-ray;
Passions there — wars, pursuits, tribes — sight in those ocean depths — breathing that thick-breathing air, as so many do,
The change thence to the sight here, and to the subtle air breathed by beings like us, who walk this sphere;
The change onward from ours to that of beings who walk other spheres.

Walt Whitman; Leaves of Grass; 16

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