Some say we picture lovers face to face,
Entwined, intent each on the other alone;
While friends are side by side intent, and gaze
Upon some truth each thought themselves to own
Sole, strange, and lonely. Friendship is that wood
In which run rank all flowers we thought rare;
In which at first aghast we stared and stood
To see two phoenix dazzle the dim air.
But when I think of you in terms of these
Symbolical fine patterns, full of grace,
We are not side by side, but back to back,
Intent upon two mirrors where we gaze.
And I see your face multiplied in glass,
And you see mine, through these infinities.