78 A GLIMPSE

By 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．