YOUR voice was the rugged 
 old voice that I knew; 
I gave the best grip of 
 my greeting to you. 
I knew not of your lips? 
 you knew not of mine; 
Of travel and travail 
 we gave not a sign. 
 
We drank and we chorused 
 with quips in our eyes; 
But under our song was 
 the meeting of sighs. 
I knew not of your lips? 
 you knew not of mine; 
For lean years and lone years 
 had watered the wine.