The Parting. Poem by Daniel Baker

As virtuous Souls when they depart away,
And leave their loved Bodies here alone,
In Rest abide, until the joyful day
Appointed for their Resurrection:

So now we're parting, let us make no noise,
Nor beat the empty Air with fruitless cries,
Let us not make our cruel Foes rejoyce
T'have griev'd our Heart, as well as vex'd our Eyes.

Those Earth born Souls, whose chiefest Good is Sense,
Whose Joys are dirty, and their Love obscene,
Lament and howl when they are hurri'd hence,
Because those Pleasures ne'er return again.

But we whose Love so spotless is and fine,
Like that which Angels to each other bear,
Shall much disgrace our Souls, if we repine,
And murmure when our Bodies absent are.

Speak, O ye Nymphs, that in cool Streams delight,
For on your flowry Banks we us'd to lie,
When did we e'er offend you with a sight
That made you blush, or turn away your Eye?

Speak, O ye shady Woods, for ev'ry Night
Before you all our Thoughts we us'd to spread.
When did you ever hear a Word so light
As made you frown, or shake your rev'rend Head?

Daphne the coy, who thought no Love between
A diff'rent Sex could ever vertuous be,
Then whisper'd thus to me, Had Phoebus been
As chast as thou, I ne'er had been a Tree.

Be this thy Comfort, Dear, tho' I be gone
Do not thy self a fruitless Sorrow give;
Nor like those wretched desp'rate Creatures moan,
Whose former Sins all future Hopes bereave.

In th' Ev'ning, tho' the Sun withdraw his Light,
Yet still his active Heat and Infl'ence stay,
The od'rous Herbs and tender Plants all Night
Shoot up and grow as well as in the day:

So e'en upon thy absent Love I'll feast,
Thy vital Memory shall nourish me,
Until I see thy Beams arise in th' East
Glorious and joyful: This, my Dear, shall be;

It shall. And none my saying can disprove,
The great Orac'lous Truth none can deny:
For Heav'n is just, and cannot let a Love
So pure, so like it self uncrowned die.