A Glimpse, through an interstice caught,
Of a crowd of workmen and drivers in a bar-room, around the stove, late of a winter night -- And I unremark'd seated in a corner;
Of a youth who loves me, and whom I love, silently approaching, and seating himself near, that he may hold me by the hand;
A long while, amid the noises of coming and going -- of drinking and oath and smutty jest,
There we two, content, happy in being together, speaking little,
perhaps not a word.