The Mind Speaks
Poor Body, sitting there so calm,
With scarcely any breath-
Are we rehearsing that last act,
When we shall meet with Death?
Our fire of life is burning low,
And we can feel the cold-
Yet we have had a glorious time,
When all our days are told.
Rest, tired Body, rest in peace,
And trust the mind, this hour:
With thoughts too kind to tempt the flesh
To act beyond its power.