 | Leaves of grass. (1861-1861) |  |
242
[24. Lift me close to your face till I whisper]
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.
| Leaves of grass. (1861-1861) | |