O that I could distil my vital Juice in Tears!
Or waste away my Soul in sobbing Airs!
Were I all Eyes,
To flow in liquid Elegies:
That every Limb might grieve,
And dying Sorrow still retrieve;
My Life should be but one long mourning day,
And like moist Vapors melt in Tears away.
I'd soon dissolve in one great Sigh,
And upwards fly,
Glad so to be exhal'd to Heav'n and thee:
A Sigh which might well-nigh reverse thy death,
And hope to animate thee with new Breath;
Pow'rful as that which heretofore did give
A Soul to well-form'd Clay, and made it live.