In these bothersome bodies of ours.
Then in stupor we sleep while our spirits take flight
To places unknown in a wondering dream,
And we fall from a tower in a horrible fright,
Where we strangle and drown in a deep-rolling stream;
For our spirits may soar all alone to high towers,
But they fall with these bodies of ours.
We have faith and a hope and some charity, too,
We trust in our preacher, or elder, or pope,
And so far as we know, ’tis the best thing to do,