From
Leaves of Grass, by
Walt Whitman:
Behold this
swarthy face, these gray eyes,
This
beard, the white wool unclipt upon my neck,
My brown hands and the
silent manner of me without
charm;
Yet comes one a
Manhattanese and ever at parting kisses me
lightly on the lips with
robust love,
And I on the crossing of the street or on the ship's deck give a
kiss in return,
We observe that
salute of
American comrades land and sea,
We are those two
natural and
nonchalant persons.