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.
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.
"A Glimpse"
Walt Whitman | b.1819 d.1892
Collection: Leaves of Grass, 1860