appears thoughtfully sad. Having accomplished the descent of man and the ascent of the worm, perhaps he is puzzling himself as to what next.
THE WORM TURNS.
I've despised you, old Worm, for I think you'll admit
That you never were beautiful even in youth;
I've impaled you on hooks, and not felt it a bit;
But all's changed now that Darwin has told us the truth
Of your diligent life, and endowed you with fame—
You begin to inspire me with kindly regard:
I have friends of my own, clever Worm, I could name,
Who have ne'er in their lives been at work half so hard.
It appears that we owe you our acres of soil,
That the garden could never exist without you,
That from ages gone by you were patient in toil,
Till a Darwin revealed all the good that you do.
Now you've turned with a vengeance, and all must confess
Your behavior should make poor humanity squirm,
For there's many a man on this planet, I guess,
Who is not half so useful as you, Mister Worm!
