Nothing can perish, all things change below,
For spirits through all forms may come and go.
. . . . . .
Thus through a thousand shapes, the soul shall go
And thus fulfil its destiny below.
Death has no power th' immortal soul to slay;
That, when its present body turns to clay,
Seeks a fresh home and with unminish'd might
Inspires another frame with life and light.
So I myself (well I the past recall)....