English poem
The Meeting of Sighs
by John Shaw Neilson (1872–1942)
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 sigh.
We drank and we chorused, With quiqs in our eyes; But under our song was The meeting of sighs. I knew not of your lips— You knew not of mine; But lean years and lone years Had watered the wine.