Sea monster - Chesterton perhaps, who always seems to me an inadvertently bright poet.

I Cut a staff in a churchyard copse,

  I clad myself in ragged things,

I set a feather in my cap

  That fell out of an angel's wings.

I filled my wallet with white stones,

  I took three foxgloves in my hand,

I slung my shoes across my back,

  And so I went to fairyland.

Borges has this characteristic comment on Chesterton - "There is something more terrible and marvelous than being devoured by a dragon; it is being a dragon. There is something stranger than being a dragon; being a man. Such elemental intuition...shapes all of Chesterton's poems"