“Often I have that strange and poignant dream
Of some unknown who meets my flame with flame—
Who, with each time, is never quite the same,
Yet never wholly different does she seem.
She understands me! Every fitful gleam
Troubling my heart, she reads aright somehow:
Even the sweat upon my pallid brow
She soothes with tears, a cool and freshening stream.
“If she is dark or fair? I do not know—
Her name? Only that it is sweet and low,