mseyb
Charlotte Repairs Her Web
Spiders have a cruel, treacherous reputation, perhaps deservedly so. Constructed in fine, delicate detail, their webs display an intricate architecture built to trap all sorts of insects. Not a pretty site to watch a fly struggling to escape gossamer threads, finally surrender, then sense the approach of the spider. "It's what they get for flying," says the spider, as she patiently munches a wing, reducing two to one. See what I mean by cruel treachery?
Arachnophobia seems to affect a lot of people. I've never been scared of spiders for the most part, though I don't particularly enjoy the feel of one scurrying across the back of my neck. I suspect many people dispatch spiders with the smack of a flyswatter, but think of Charlotte's Web the next time you're so tempted. Could you really do that to poor Charlotte? Ok, you could and you do. You likely eat Wilbur, too, don't you.
The spider in Lindsay's poem, though, doesn't sound much like Charlotte, and may make you more sympathetic to flies. Say, you don't suppose, do you, that Lindsay knew a girl named Charlotte ("I saw her eat my heart")? Get out the swatter.
The Spider and the Ghost of the Fly
Once I loved a spider
When I was born a fly,
A velvet-footed spider
With a gown of rainbow-dye.
She ate my wings and gloated.
She bound me with a hair.
She drove me to her parlor
Above her winding stair.
To educate young spiders
She took me all apart.
My ghost came back to haunt her.
I saw her eat my heart.
—by Vachel Lindsay
(for Poetography, Theme 184—Bug(s); Literary Reference in Pictures)
Charlotte Repairs Her Web
Spiders have a cruel, treacherous reputation, perhaps deservedly so. Constructed in fine, delicate detail, their webs display an intricate architecture built to trap all sorts of insects. Not a pretty site to watch a fly struggling to escape gossamer threads, finally surrender, then sense the approach of the spider. "It's what they get for flying," says the spider, as she patiently munches a wing, reducing two to one. See what I mean by cruel treachery?
Arachnophobia seems to affect a lot of people. I've never been scared of spiders for the most part, though I don't particularly enjoy the feel of one scurrying across the back of my neck. I suspect many people dispatch spiders with the smack of a flyswatter, but think of Charlotte's Web the next time you're so tempted. Could you really do that to poor Charlotte? Ok, you could and you do. You likely eat Wilbur, too, don't you.
The spider in Lindsay's poem, though, doesn't sound much like Charlotte, and may make you more sympathetic to flies. Say, you don't suppose, do you, that Lindsay knew a girl named Charlotte ("I saw her eat my heart")? Get out the swatter.
The Spider and the Ghost of the Fly
Once I loved a spider
When I was born a fly,
A velvet-footed spider
With a gown of rainbow-dye.
She ate my wings and gloated.
She bound me with a hair.
She drove me to her parlor
Above her winding stair.
To educate young spiders
She took me all apart.
My ghost came back to haunt her.
I saw her eat my heart.
—by Vachel Lindsay
(for Poetography, Theme 184—Bug(s); Literary Reference in Pictures)