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.