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. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PAST by RALPH WALDO EMERSON AN ESSAY ON MAN by ALEXANDER POPE AN ORCHARD AT AVIGNON by AGNES MARY F. ROBINSON IN THE VALLEY OF CAUTERETZ by ALFRED TENNYSON TO BE CARVED ON A STONE AT THOOR BALLYLEE (1) by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |