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The Spike or Victoria University College Review June 1926

The Spider

The Spider

To-night the sky's a blue campanula
That roofs a cool and windy autumn earth,
Inside the azure dome a spider hangs,
Bright gold he moves in lovely shining mirth.

He spins a golden web beneath the blue,
A web of strands that gleam across the world;
What monster moth will flutter there to death?
A long, dim shadow drifts with wings unfurled

Too vast, O spider, for your sunset web,
Slow winging passes, but your gold and you
Droop lifeless at its touch and fall away,
While seas of darkness flood your kingdom blue.