Leaves of Grass, by Walt Whitman

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WHAT think you I take my pen in hand to record?

The battle-ship, perfect-model'd, majestic, that I saw pass the
offing to-day under full sail?

The splendors of the past day? or the splendor of the night that
envelops me?

Or the vaunted glory and growth of the great city spread around
me?—no;

But merely of two simple men I saw to-day on the pier in the
midst of the crowd, parting the parting of dear friends,

The one to remain hung on the other's neck and passionately
kiss'd him,

While the one to depart tightly prest the one to remain in his
arms.

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