The aging poem describes an old man as a great house falling into disrepair, and each part has a body behind it. The keepers of the house tremble — the arms and hands shake. The strong men bow — the legs give. The grinders cease because they are few — teeth. Those that look out of the windows are darkened — failing eyesight. The doors are shut in the streets and the sound of the grinding is low — hearing goes, and so does the ability to chew. He rises up at the voice of the bird, because old men sleep lightly and wake at dawn. The almond tree flourishes — almond blossom is white, like hair. The grasshopper is a burden — even something weightless is now too heavy. Desire fails.
Then the household breaks entirely. "The silver cord be loosed, the golden bowl be broken" is a hanging lamp: a bowl of oil suspended on a chain, which falls and shatters when the chain parts. "The pitcher broken at the fountain, the wheel broken at the cistern" is the village water supply — a jar lowered on a rope over a wheel or pulley into the well. When the jar breaks and the wheel comes apart, the house has no water. The lamp is out and the water has stopped: the life is over.
"The mourners go about the streets" describes hired professional mourners, who wailed through the neighbourhood so that the whole town knew a death had occurred. It was a paid, recognised occupation.
The epilogue describes how the book itself was made: the Preacher "taught the people knowledge; yea, he gave good heed, and sought out, and set in order many proverbs" — collecting, sifting, and arranging, which is exactly what Proverbs 25 says Hezekiah's men later did with Solomon's sayings. The words of the wise are compared to "goads, and as nails fastened by the masters of assemblies": a goad was the sharpened stick used to keep an ox moving, and a nail here is a fixed peg you can hang something on. Wisdom prods and it holds.
