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;t
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.