One fitting glimpse caught through an interstice
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.