IF to be absent were to be Away from thee; Or that, when I am gone, You or I were alone; Then, my Lucasta, might I crave Pity from blustering wind or swallowing wave. But I ’ll not sigh one blast or gale To swell my sail, Or pay a tear to ’suage The foaming blue-god’s rage; For, whether he will let me pass Or no, I ’m still as happy as I was. Though seas and lands be ’twixt us both, Our faith and troth, Like separated souls, All time and space controls: Above the highest sphere we meet, Unseen, unknown; and greet as angels greet. So, then, we do anticipate Our after-fate, And are alive i’ the skies, If thus our lips and eyes Can speak like spirits unconfined In heaven,—their earthly bodies left behind.
To Lucasta
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