Love Poems

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.