Worms Analysis

Songs of a Sun-LoverWorms finer for fishing you couldn't be wishing;

I delved them dismayed from the velvety sod;

The rich loam upturning I gathered them squirming,

big, fat, gleamy earthworms, all ripe for my rod.

Thinks I, without waiting, my hook I'll be baiting,

And flip me a fish from the foam of the pool;

Then Mother beholding, came crying and scolding:

"You're late, ye young devil! Be off to the school."

So grabbing me bait-tin I dropped them fat worms in,

With globs of green turf for their comfort and cheer;

And there, clean forgotten, no doubt dead and rotten;

I left them to languish for nigh on a year.One day to be cleaning the byre I was meaning,

When seeing that old rusty can on the shelf,

Says I: "To my thinking, them worms must be stinking:

Begorrah! I'd better find out for myself."

So I opened the tin, held my nose and looked in;

And what did I see? Why, most nothing at all.

Just darkness and dank. and . . . a something that stank,

Tucked down in a corner, a greasy grey ball.

My worms -no, not dead, but thin as a thread,

Each seemed to reproach me, protesting its worth:

So softly I took them and tenderly shook them

Back into the bosom of mothering earth.I'm now in the City; 'tis grand, but I pity

The weariful wretches that crawl in its grime;

The dregs and the scum and the spawn of the slum,

And the poor little children that's cradled in crime.

Sure I see them in terms of my pitiful worms,

surviving despite desperation and doom,

And I wish I was God, with a smile and a nod

To set them all down in a valley of bloom,

Saying: "Let these rejoice with a wonderful voice

For mothering earth and for fathering sea,

And healing of sun, for each weariful one

Of these poor human worms is a wee bit of me. . . .

Let your be the blame and yours be the shame:

What ye do unto them ye do also to ME."

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