The Spider

SPINNER of the silken snare,
Fell Arachne in your lair,
Tell me, if your powers can tell,
How you do your work so well!

Weaving on, in light and dark,
Segment and concentric are,
Lace-like, gossamer designs,
Strict to geometric lines,

Perfect to the utmost part,
Occult, exquisite of art, —
Flow are all these wonders bred
In your atom of a head ?

Propositions here involved
Wit of man has never solved;
Demonstrations hard to find
Are as crystal to your mind.

How, in deepest dungeon glooms, Do your Liliputian looms Work suck miracles as these, — Faultless, fairy filigrees?

Careless flies that hither flit Come to die; but there you sit, Feeling with your fingers fine Each vibrating, pulse-like line;

Eager to anticipate Hourly messages of fate, — Funeral telegrams that say, Here is feasting one more day !

Spider, only He can tell How you do your work so well, Who in life’s mysterious ways Knows the method of the maze.