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A Glimpse
by Walt Whitman
from “Calamus” in Leaves of Grass, 1867

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.

 


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