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...LINES ON HEARING THE ORGAN by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY LINCOLN, THE MAN OF THE PEOPLE by EDWIN MARKHAM LILIES: 13. 'LET US NEVER COMFORT EACH OTHER INTO SLEEP' by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) TO A BIRD IN THE CITY by MATTHIAS BARR HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 10 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |