Classic Poem

Soul of my soul! it cannot be,
That you should weep, and I from tears be free.
All the vast room between both Poles,
Can never dull the sense of souls,
Knit in so fast a knot.
Oh! can you grieve, and think that I
Can feel no smart, because not nigh,
Or that I know it not?

Th'are heretick thoughts. Two Lutes are strung,
And on a Table tun'd alike for song;
Strike one, and that which none did touch,
Shall sympathizing sound as much,
As that which toucht you see.
Think then this world (which Heaven inroules)
Is but a Table round, and souls
More apprehensive be.

Know they that in their grossest parts,
Mix by their hallowed loves intwined hearts,
This privilege boast, that no remove
Can e're infringe their sense of love.
Judge hence then our estate,
Since when we lov'd there was not put
Two earthen hearts in one brest, but
Two souls Co-animate.