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Leaves of Grass (1860)
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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. |