I loved another, fair and mild,
A joy they were to see.
But impure love is incomplete
And left they me reviled.
Another lover for my love
I thought I’d surely find.
But the belov’d must be of mind
For none have found me as I rove.
Instead a higher yearning filled
Have I by dint of rising to
A plane on which there’s lovers few
And found a wondrous great Beloved.
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