The lowest depths of hell were fittest cells, forsooth.145
A mother ever yearneth after her own child;
A dam is ever followed by her offspring wild.
Though true that water may enclosed be in a tank,
The air will it absorb. ’Twas thence to earth it sank.
Air sets it free; direct, restores it to its source,
By little and by little. None perceive its course.
So, too, our breath, in manner like, steals soul away,
By little and by little, from this house of clay,
In words of praise, ascending to God’s holy throne,