8th std English poem the worm
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Turn,turn thy haste foot aside from,
Nor crush that helpless worm!
The frame thy scornful looks deride
Require'd a God to form.
The common Lord of all that move,
From whom thy being flow'd,
A portion of His boundless love
On that poor worm bestow'd.
The sun, the moon ,the stars He made
To all His Creatures free:
And spreads o'er earth the grassly blade,
For worms as well as thee.
Let them enjoy their little day,
Their lowly bliss revived;
O do not lightly take away
The life thou canst not give!
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