Thomas Hampson

Behold this swarthy face, these gray eyes,
This beard, the white wool unclipt upon my neck,
My brown hands and the silent manner 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.