(30 May 1835 – 2 June 1913 / Headingley)

Dancing Spider

Walk on those elegant legs,
My dancing spider,
Dance on that web,
My dancing spider,
Spin your web like an intricate puzzle,
My dancing spider,
As you move and weave,
And those flys deceive,
My dancing spider.
For you are truly magical,
With your grace,
Such a natural with your gifts,
That you weave, play and dance,
Like the beautiful creature you are.

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Comments (1)

Not the strongest Austin poem, but something about his writing, even when short, sweet and to the point, is still so enjoyable. Obviously, Autumn is old age and Winter is death.