Tuesday, November 9, 2010


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 a 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 appall?
If design govern in a thing so small.

Robert Frost 

*my english class this year is focusing
a lot on various poems.  i'm starting the poem
project to share some of my favorite poems with
all of you.  

1 comment:

  1. i LOVE robert frost. and actually i have never read one of this one of his. and i love it.

    thank you!

    looking forward to reading more amazing poems!


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