Page:Leaves of Grass (1860).djvu/250

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242
Leaves of Grass.


24.

Lift me close to your face till I whisper,
What you are holding is in reality no book, nor part
of a book,
It is a man, flushed and full-blooded—it is I—So
long!
We must separate—Here! take from my lips this
kiss,
Whoever you are, I give it especially to you;
So long—and I hope we shall meet again.