Classic Poem

When by sad fate from hence I summon'd am,
Call it not Absence, that's too mild a name.
Believe it, dearest Soul, I cannot part,
For who can live two Regions from his heart?
Unlesse as stars direct our humane sense,
I live by your more powerful influence.
No; say I am dissolv'd: for as a Cloud
By the Suns vigour melted is, and strow'd
On the Earths face, to be exhal'd again
To the same beams that turn'd it into rain.
So absent think me but as scatter'd dew,
Till re-exhal'd again to Vertue; You.