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.