BEHOLD this swarthy facethese gray eyes,
This beardthe 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 ships deck, give a kiss in return;
We observe that salute of American comrades, land and sea,
We are those two natural and nonchalant persons.
Behold this Swarthy Face.
written byWalt Whitman
© Walt Whitman