Once I passed through a populous city imprinting mybrain for future use with its shows, architecture,customs, traditions,Yet now of all that city I remember only a woman ICasually met there who detained me for love of me,Day by day and night by night we were together—all elseHas long been forgotten by me,I remember I say only that woman who passionately clungTo 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.
― Walt Whitman,
Leaves of Grass
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