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Henry Van Dyke - Rendezvous
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I count that friendship little worth
  Which has not many things untold,
  Great longings that no words can hold,
And passion-secrets waiting birth.
Along the slender wires of speech
  Some message from the heart is sent;
  But who can tell the whole that`s meant?
Our dearest thoughts are out of reach.
I have not seen thee, though mine eyes
  Hold now the image of thy face;
  In vain, through form, I strive to trace
The soul I love: that deeper lies.
A thousand accidents control
  Our meeting here. Clasp hand in hand,
  And swear to meet me in that land
Where friends hold converse soul to soul.
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