If they be two, they are two so
                   As still twin compasses are two:
                       Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show
                           To move, but doth, if th' other do.
　
               And though it in the center sit,
                   Yet when the other far doth roam,
                       It learns and harkens after it,
                           And grows erect as that comes home.
　　
               Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
                   Like th' other foot, obliquely run;
                       Thy firmness makes my circle just,
                           And makes me end where I begun.
　

                                                              ~John Donne