Richard Lovelace (1618–1658)

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 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’ the skies,

If thus our lips and eyes

Can speak like spirits unconfined

In Heaven, their earthly bodies left behind.