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.