As stiff twin compasses are two ;
Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if th' other do.
Yet, when the other far doth roam,
It leans, and hearkens after it,
And grows erect, as that comes home.
Like th' other foot, obliquely run;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end where I begun