This is very beautiful (and very sad, sadness is often akin to beauty...) poem, called "The Eye of My Eye":

By whose touch does the lily smile

And open its beauty – bud?

Whose moonlit beauty

Do I see in the lily?

Who is the Eye of my eye;

Who is the Heart of my heart?

Alas, then why do I not see Her,

Her face of transcendental Beauty,

Even in my dreams?