Sometimes when I look at you,
when you turn just so,
I know that I knew you
before we were us.

Memory fails to recall
where I have seen your face,
now more familiar than all
I have known before.

Then, past memory's
bounds, in night's visions
glorious, my eye sees
you, whom I have known,

And I know that I have loved
you in my dreams,
while waiting for my beloved:
you, my chosen one.