A brief look through an interstice got,
Of a horde of laborers and drivers in a pub
around the oven late of a winter night, and I unremark'd situated in a corner,
Of a young who adores me and whom I love, quietly drawing closer and seating himself close, that he may hold me by the hand,
An extended period of time in the midst of the commotions of traveling every which way, of drinking and pledge and lewd quip,
There we two, content, glad in being together, talking close to nothing, maybe not a word.