What joy, large flower of Western land,
To seek thy democratic door,
With eager hand to clasp thy hand!
Paumanokides.
Right you are!
Take then the electric pressure of these fingers, O my Comrade!
I do not doubt you are the one I was waiting for, as I loaf’d here enjoying my soul,
Let us two under all and any circumstances stick together from this out!
Narcissus.
Seeing that isle of which I spake but late