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1819–1891

A PRAYER

James Russell Lowell

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! Oh, 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.

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A PRAYER · James Russell Lowell · Poetry Cove