A Glimpse

Walt Whitman

   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.

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