James Russell Lowell (1819–1891)

GOD! do not let my loved one die,

But rather wait until the time

That I am grown in purity

Enough to enter Thy pure clime,

Then take me, I will gladly go,

So that my love remain below!

O, let her stay! She is by birth

What I through death must learn to be;

We need her more on our poor earth

Than Thou canst need in heaven with Thee:

She hath her wings already, I

Must burst this earth-shell ere I fly.

Then, God, take me! We shall be near,

More near than ever, each to each:

Her angel ears will find more clear

My heavenly than my earthly speech;

And still, as I draw nigh to Thee,

Her soul and mine shall closer be.