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.