Walt Whitman — Leaves of Grass Among the Multitude

Among the men and women the multitude, I perceive one picking me out by secret and divine signs, Acknowledging none else, not parent, wife, husband, brother, child,         any nearer than I am, Some are baffled, but that one is not—that one knows me. Ah lover and perfect equal, I meant that you should discover me so by faint indirections, And I when I meet you mean to discover you by the like in you.