Poem by Walt Whitman: 

Tears! Tears! Tears!
At night, in solitude—tears,
Falling, falling, falling on the white shore, soaked through the sand,
Tears—no shining star, all is dark and desolate,
Tears, fresh from the eyes of a veiled head;
But what is this shadow? This form in darkness, with tears?
What shapeless figure is that, bowed, hunched over the sand?
Streaming tears, condemning tears, gasps, choked in wild cries;
Oh storm, embodied, rising without pause, charging
With hurried steps across the beach!
Oh wild and wretched night storm, with the wind—oh burst
And despair!
Oh shadow, so calm and ‘graceful’ by day, with serene
Face and steady walk,
But by night, as you fly, no one sees—Oh
then, the enslaved ocean,
Of tears! Of tears! Of tears!