---

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - The Soul`s Complaint Against The Body. (From The Anglo-Saxon)
Work rating: Medium

Much it behoveth 
Each one of mortals, 
That he his soul`s journey 
In himself ponder, 
How deep it may be. 
When Death cometh, 
The bonds he breaketh 
By which were united 
The soul and the body. 

Long it is thenceforth 
Ere the soul taketh 
From God himself 
Its woe or its weal; 
As in the world erst, 
Even in its earth-vessel, 
It wrought before. 

The soul shall come 
Wailing with loud voice, 
After a sennight, 
The soul, to find 
The body 
That it erst dwelt in;-- 
Three hundred winters, 
Unless ere that worketh 
The Eternal Lord, 
The Almighty God, 
The end of the world. 

Crieth then, so care-worn, 
With cold utterance, 
And speaketh grimly, 
The ghost to the dust: 
"Dry dust! thou dreary one! 
How little didst thou labor for me! 
In the foulness of earth 
Thou all wearest away 
Like to the loam! 
Little didst thou think 
How thy soul`s journey 
Would be thereafter, 
When from the body 
It should be led forth."
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.