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A scene was planned for all her numberless moods Where each could be the law and way of life, But none could offer a pure felicity; Only a flickering zest they left behind Or the fierce lust that brings a dead fatigue.

Our spirit tires of being's surfaces, Transcended is the splendour of the form; It turns to hidden powers and deeper states. So now he looked beyond for greater light.

Thus we draw near to the All-Wonderful Following his rapture in things as sign and guide; Beauty is his footprint showing us where he has passed, Love is his heart-beats' rhythm in mortal breasts, Happiness the smile on his adorable face.