I FOUND a dimpled spider, fat and white, On a white heal-all, holding up a moth Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth -- Assorted characters of death and blight Mixed ready to begin the morning right, Like the ingredients of a witches' broth -- A snow-drop spider, a flower like froth, And dead wings carried like a paper kite. What had that flower to do with being white, The wayside blue and innocent heal-all? What brought the kindred spider to that height, Then steered the white moth thither in the night? What but design of darkness to appal? -- If design govern in a thing so small. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 48 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN: THE FIRST DAY: PRELUDE. THE WAYSIDE INN by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE FIRESIDE CHAIRS; HUSBAND TO WIFE by WILLIAM BARNES MEN OF WAKE by WILLIAM ROSE BENET TANAGER by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN |