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.