excerpt:
<blockquote>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.
The tower of ages in fragments is laid,
Moss grows on the stones, and I lurk in its shade;
And the hand of the giant and heart of the brave
Must turn weak and submit to the worm and the grave.</blockquote>
