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.