The Worms' Contempt Poem by William Henry Davies
The Worms' Contempt
What do we earn for all our gentle grace?
A body stiff and cold from foot to face.
If you have beauty, what is beauty worth?
A mask to hide it, made of common earth.
What do we get for all our song and prattle?
A gasp for longer breath, and then a rattle.
What do we earn for dreams, and our high teaching?
The worms' contempt, that have no time for preaching.
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4/23/2024 12:29:43 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Some times our heart revolts when our talents and hard work go unnoticed.We feel worthless, undesired. It is a poem about the downtrodden whose worth we ignore.