A Glimpse

"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."

- Walt Whitman