The Conqueror Worm

poems--the-conqueror-worm

Source URL https://ririro.com/poems/the-conqueror-worm/

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The Conqueror Worm

Lo! ’tis a gala night Within the lonesome latter years! An angel throng, bewinged, bedight In veils, and drowned in tears, Sit in a theatre, to see A play of hopes and fears, While the orchestra breathes fitfully The music of the spheres.

Mimes, in the form of God on high, Mutter and mumble low, And hither and thither fly— Mere puppets they, who come and go At bidding of vast formless things That shift the scenery to and fro, Flapping from out their Condor wings Invisible Woe!

That motley drama—oh, be sure It shall not be forgot! With its Phantom chased for evermore, By a crowd that seize it not, Through a circle that ever returneth in To the self-same spot, And much of Madness, and more of Sin, And Horror the soul of the plot.

But see, amid the mimic rout A crawling shape intrude! A blood-red thing that writhes from out The scenic solitude! It writhes!—it writhes!—with mortal pangs The mimes become its food, And the angels sob at vermin fangs In human gore imbued.

Out—out are the lights—out all! And, over each quivering form, The curtain, a funeral pall, Comes down with the rush of a storm And the angels, all pallid and wan, Uprising, unveiling, affirm That the play is the tragedy, “Man,” And its hero the Conqueror Worm.

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  "summary": "This poem presents a dramatic allegory set in a theatre where a host of weeping angels watches a tragic play unfold. The stage displays scenes representing human hopes and fears, with performers who are manipulated like puppets by unseen forces, symbolizing life's uncontrollable nature. As the drama progresses, a sinister, blood-red worm writhes onto the stage, consuming the actors and horrifying the angels. This worm embodies death and decay, underscoring the inevitability of mortality that conquers all humanity's endeavors. The poem concludes with the curtain falling like a funeral pall, as the angels affirm that the play is indeed the tragedy of Man, with the inevitable hero being the Conqueror Worm. It delivers a somber meditation on the transient nature of life and the inescapability of death, making it suitable for a mature audience ready to explore themes of mortality and existential reflection.",
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    "Mimes, in the form of God on high, Mutter and mumble low, And hither and thither fly— Mere puppets they, who come and go At bidding of vast formless things That shift the scenery to and fro, Flapping from out their Condor wings Invisible Woe!",
    "That motley drama—oh, be sure It shall not be forgot! With its Phantom chased for evermore, By a crowd that seize it not, Through a circle that ever returneth in To the self-same spot, And much of Madness, and more of Sin, And Horror the soul of the plot.",
    "But see, amid the mimic rout A crawling shape intrude! A blood-red thing that writhes from out The scenic solitude! It writhes!—it writhes!—with mortal pangs The mimes become its food, And the angels sob at vermin fangs In human gore imbued.",
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