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Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman

BOOK V. CALAMUS - Behold This Swarthy Face

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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.



Read next: BOOK V. CALAMUS#I Saw in Louisiana a Live-Oak Growing

Read previous: BOOK V. CALAMUS#City of Orgies

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