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.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
8/22/2026 10:33:02 PM # rel_20260813T193622Z_3aad590
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.