Emily Dickinson

The Spider Holds A Silver Ball

The spider holds a Silver Ball In unperceived Hands– And dancing softly to Himself His Yarn of Pearl–unwinds– He plies from Nought to Nought– In unsubstantial Trade– Supplants our Tapestries with His– In half the period– An Hour to rear supreme His Continents of Light– Then dangle from the Housewife’s Broom– His Boundaries–forgot–

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