"I believe in you in my soul....the other I am must not abase itself to you,
And you must not be abased to the other.
Loaf with me on the grass....loose the stop from your throat,
Not words, not music, not rhyme I want....not custom or lecture, not even the best,
Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.
I mind how we lay in June, such a transparent summer morning;
You settled your head athwart my hips and gently turned over upon me,
And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my barestripped heart,
And reached till you felt my beard, and reached till you held my feet."-Walt Whitman