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I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning, how you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn'd over upon me, and parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my bare-stript heart, and reach'd till you felt my beard, and reach'd till you held my feet.
—
Leaves of Grass
(book)
by Walt Whitman
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| Language: | English |
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