to his end,
And when it comes, say "Welcome, friend!"

There is much more, but the best of the thoughts are here. They are not
exactly new thoughts, nor strange thoughts, but they are finely expressed
in a strong and simple way.

There is another composition on the same subject--the imaginary spouse,
the destined one. But this is written by a woman, Christina Rossetti.

SOMEWHERE OR OTHER

Somewhere or other there must surely be
The face not seen, the voice not heard,
The heart that not yet--never yet--ah me!
Made answer to my word.

Somewhere or other, may be near or far;
Past land and sea, clean out of sight;
Beyond the wondering moon, beyond the star
That tracks her night by night.

Somewhere or other, may be far or near;
With just a wall, a hedge between;
With just the last leaves of the dying year,
Fallen on a turf grown green.

And that turf means of course the turf of a grave in the churchyard. This
poem expresses fear that the destined one never can be met, because death
may come before the meeting time. All through the poem there is the
suggestion of an old belief that for every man and for every woman there
must be a mate, yet that it is a chance whether the mate will ever be
found.

You observe that all of these are ghostly poems, whether prospective or
retrospective. Here is another prospective poem:

AMATURUS

Somewhere beneath the sun,
These quivering heart-strings prove it,
Somewhere there must be one
Made for this soul, to move it;
Someone that hides her sweetness
From neighbors whom she slights,
Nor can attain completeness,
Nor give her heart its rights;
Someone whom I could court
With no great change of manner,
Still holding reason's fort
Though waving fancy's banner;
A lady, not so queenly
As to disdain my hand,
Yet born to smile serenely
Like those that rule the land;
Noble, but not too proud;
With soft hair simply folded,
And bright face crescent-browed
And throat by Muses moulded;

Keen lips, that shape soft sayings
Like crystals of the snow,
With pretty half-betrayings
Of things one may not know;
Fair hand, whose touches thrill,
Like golden rod of wonder,
Which Hermes wields at will
Spirit and flesh to sunder.
Forth, Love, and find this maid,
Wherever she be hidden;
Speak, Love, be not afraid,
But plead as thou art bidden;
A