Classic Poem

It is, in short, to wish a second self,
Yet not a second self to find: it is
The wish to find another, whom some elf,
Versed in fantastic metamorphosis,
Hath made so like us, that in him we miss
Nought save entire identity. How fond
Is it on such a dream to found our bliss!
He who the finite ne'er can go beyond,
Seeks happiness in vain, enthralled in error's bond!