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Poem	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 blust'ring 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 land betwixt 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'th' skies, If thus our lips and eyes Can speak like spirits unconfined In Heaven, their earthy bodies left behind.
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