THE worm, the rich worm, has a noble domain
In the field that is stored with its millions of slain ;
The charnel-grounds widen, to me they belong,
With the vaults of the sepulchre, sculptured and strong.
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The high and the bright for my feasting must fall- Youth, Beauty, and Manhood, I prey on ye all: The Prince and the peasant, the despot and slave; All, all must bow down to the worm and the grave. very fine poem. tony