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．
