UPON A SPIDER CATCHING A FLY - Adeline Dutton Train Whitney Poems


Poems » adeline dutton train whitney » upon a spider catching a fly


Thou sorrow, venom Elfe:
    Is this thy play,
To spin a web out of thyselfe
    To Catch a Fly?
        For Why?

I saw a pettish wasp
    Fall foule therein:
Whom yet thy Whorle pins did not clasp
    Lest he should fling
        His sting.

But as affraid, remote
    Didst stand hereat,
And with thy little fingers stroke
    And gently tap
        His back.

Thus gently him didst treate
    Lest he should pet,
And in a froppish, aspish heate
    Should greatly fret
        Thy net.

Whereas the silly Fly,
    Caught by its leg
Thou by the throate tookst hastily
    And 'hinde the head
        Bite Dead.

This goes to pot, that not
    Nature doth call.
Strive not above what strength hath got,
    Lest in the brawle
        Thou fall.

This Frey seems thus to us.
    Hells Spider gets
His intrails spun to whip Cords thus
    And wove to nets
        And sets.

To tangle Adams race
    In's stratigems
To their Destructions, spoil'd, made base
    By venom things,
        Damn'd Sins.

But mighty, Gracious Lord
Thy Grace to breake the Cord, afford
    Us Glorys Gate
        And State.

We'l Nightingaile sing like
    When pearcht on high
In Glories Cage, thy glory, bright,
    And thankfully,
        For joy.