Cobweb

It joins a dark pine to another tree;

And shining through its bones a ray of sun

Unearthed it like some graceful skeleton,

Or an unfinished frame of faery

As frail as words. Not even thought could be

More carefully, more delicately spun

As fine a thread as that invisible one

Of speech and silence between you and me.

The spider lurks there blotched and poisonous.

He is the monstrous god who can at will

Belch beauty from a stomachful of spit;

And dreaming of that silver binding us,

Which Love unwinds and weaves, my heart grows still

And cries that Love is lovely isn t it?

[18]