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.