IDEAL PASSION
151
VII
Although I transmigrate from friend to friend,
Yet do I own an undivided soul;
From form to form created things must roll,
And of their transformation is no end;
But in my substance do I never bend;
Still unity my being doth control,
And still I give myself entire and whole
In all my loves, and with my object blend.
I cannot understand this mystery
That so my changeless soul doth multiply;
As many waves as rise upon the sea,
So many motions in me shoreward fly,
Wherever in this world's immensity
I find a heart to break on, and to die.
