| 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, |
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Of a youth who loves me and whom I love, silently approaching
and seating himself near, that he may hold me by the hand, |
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A long while amid the noises of coming and going, of drinking
and oath and smutty jest, |
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There we two, content, happy in being together, speaking little,
perhaps not a word. |