What he means to say in short is about like this: "Oh, my wishes, go out of my heart and look for the being whom I am destined to marry--find the soul of her, whether born or yet unborn, and tell that soul of the love that is waiting for it." Then he tries to describe the imagined woman he hopes to find: I wish her beauty That owes not all its duty To gaudy 'tire or glist'ring shoe-tie.
Something more than Taffeta or tissue can; Or rampant feather, or rich fan.
More than the spoil Of shop or silk worm's toil, Or a bought blush, or a set smile.
A face that's best By its own beauty drest And can alone command the rest.
A face made up Out of no other shop Than what nature's white hand sets ope.
A cheek where grows More than a morning rose Which to no box his being owes.
* * * * * Eyes that displace The neighbor diamond and outface That sunshine by their own sweet grace.
Tresses that wear Jewels, but to declare How much themselves more precious are.
Smiles, that can warm The blood, yet teach a charm That chastity shall take no harm.
* * * * * Life, that dares send A challenge to his end, And when it comes, say "Welcome, friend!" There is much more, but the best of the thoughts are here.

They are not exactly new thoughts, nor strange thoughts, but they are finely expressed in a strong and simple way.
There is another composition on the same subject--the imaginary spouse, the destined one.

But this is written by a woman, Christina Rossetti.
SOMEWHERE OR OTHER Somewhere or other there must surely be The face not seen, the voice not heard, The heart that not yet--never yet--ah me! Made answer to my word.
Somewhere or other, may be near or far; Past land and sea, clean out of sight; Beyond the wondering moon, beyond the star That tracks her night by night.
Somewhere or other, may be far or near; With just a wall, a hedge between; With just the last leaves of the dying year, Fallen on a turf grown green.
And that turf means of course the turf of a grave in the churchyard.

This poem expresses fear that the destined one never can be met, because death may come before the meeting time.

All through the poem there is the suggestion of an old belief that for every man and for every woman there must be a mate, yet that it is a chance whether the mate will ever be found.
You observe that all of these are ghostly poems, whether prospective or retrospective.