130 . The Meeting of Sighs

YOUR voice was the rugged

old voice that I knew;

I gave the best grip of

my greeting to you.

I knew not of your lips—

you knew not of mine;

Of travel and travail

we gave not a sign.

We drank and we chorused

with quips in our eyes;

But under our song was

the meeting of sighs.

I knew not of your lips—

you knew not of mine;

For lean years and lone years

had watered the wine.