The Worm Father
This poem is a response to the piece "To His Coy Mistress" by Andrew Marvell. I wrote it as a project for school, so I won't be offended if you don't give me an A+ on this one. My English teacher already did. ;)
Had ye but world enough, and time
Your rashness, swayer, were no crime.
You could rush on and think no way
To dash and burn your long love's day
Till down by the old mountainside
Should you growing with rot reside.
Spend your tenure in reckless vain.
Burn it away in writ so plain.
The urges of man satisfied
But only until a shift tide
In your lusty satisfaction.
When youth doth burn its petrol free
It's wasteful nature meets their needs.
Those kin of mine diligently
Con and 'sume in finality
The fools that meet them at fates end
In vaults of stone, bodies broken.
Then on you my children shall feed
Your fine aged meat in misery
Say your vows. Proclaim fiery love
Burn with haste and hurry along
To feed my worms your sins and wrongs.
