BEHOLD this swarthy face—these gray eyes,This beard—the 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 ship's deck, give a kiss in return;We observe that salute of American comrades, land and sea,We are those two natural and nonchalant persons.