Of the Progress of the Soul: the Second Anniversary by John Donne

Two souls move here, and mine, a third, must move / Paces of admiration and of love. / Thy soul, dear virgin, whose this tribute is, / Moved from this mortal sphere to lively bliss / And yet moves still, and still aspires to see / The world's last day, thy glory's full degree, / Like as those stars which thou o'erlookest far, / Are in their place, and yet still movèd are. / No soul-whiles with the luggage of this clay / It clogged is-Scan follow thee halfway; / Or see thy flight, which doth our thoughts outgo / So fast, as now the lightning moves but slow. / But now thou art as high in heaven flown / As heavens from us, what soul besides thine own / Can tell thy joys, or say he can relate / Thy glorious journals in that blessed state? / I envy thee, rich soul, I envy thee, / Although I cannot yet thy glory see. / And thou, great spirit, which hers followed hast / So fast, as none can follow thine so fast; / So far, as none can follow thine so far / -And if this flesh did not the passage bar, / Hadst caught her-let me wonder at thy flight, / Which long agone hadst lost the vulgar sight, / And now makest proud the better eyes, that they / Can see thee lessened in thine airy way. / So while thou makest her soul by progress known, / Thou makest a noble progress of thine own, / From this world's carcase having mounted high / To that pure life of immortality; / Since thine aspiring thoughts themselves so raise / That more may not beseem a creature's praise, / Yet still thou vow'st her more, and every year / Makest a new progress, while thou wanderest here, / Still upward mount; and let thy Maker's praise / Honour thy Laura, and adorn thy lays. / And since thy Muse her head in heaven shrouds, / Oh, let her never stoop below the clouds; / And if those glorious sainted souls may know / Or what we do, or what we sing below, / Those acts, those songs shall still content them best / Which praise those awful Powers that make them blest.

Joseph Hall