Affinities

Somewhere, I do believe, — though where, who knows? —
One like my lady dwells. Should I not see,
If I could come upon her suddenly.
The queenly face and eyes whose depths disclose
Passionate rest, great thoughts, and the repose
Of natures wrought for wise, sweet mastery?
Yea, I do feel, though incommunicably,
That round my life, in this life, hers yet flows.

And she will read these lays, and all her soul
Will yearn toward me to comfort and sustain.
Others will read to find their truth in vain;
She only will entirely understand.
O soul twin-born with hers, stretch out thy hand
And lead the pilgrim till he reach the goal.