Classic Poem

I have not heard her voice, nor seen her face,
Nor touched her hand;
And yet some echo of her woman's grace
I understand.

I have no picture of her lovelihood,
Her smile, her tint;
But that she is both beautiful and good
I have true hint.

In all that my friend thinks and says, I see
Her mirror true;
His thought of her is gentle; she must be
All gentle too.

In all his grief or laughter, work or play,
Each mood and whim,
How brave and tender, day by common day,
She speaks through him!

Therefore I say I know her, be her face
Or dark or fair—
For when he shows his heart's most secret place
I see her there!