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.