From
Leaves of Grass, by
Walt Whitman:
Once I pass'd through a
populous city imprinting my
brain for future use with its shows,
architecture, customs, traditions,
Yet now of all that city I remember only a
woman I casually met there who detain'd me for love of me,
Day by day and night by night we were together — all else has long been forgotten by me,
I
remember I say only that woman who
passionately clung to me,
Again we wander, we love, we separate again,
Again she holds me by the hand, I must not go,
I see her close beside me with
silent lips sad and tremulous.