The Spider and the Fly
a poem by Mary Howitt (1799-1888)
published in 1829.
"Will you walk into my parlor? " said the spider to the fly;
"Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy.
The way into my parlor is up a winding stair,
And I have many pretty things to show when you are there."
"O no, no," said the little fly, "to ask me is in vain,
For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."
"I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;
Will you rest upon my little bed?" said the spider to the fly.
"There are pretty curtains drawn around, the sheets are fine and thin,
And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in."
"O no, no," said the little fly, "for I've often heard it said,
They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed.
"Said the cunning spider to the fly, "Dear friend, what shall I do,
To prove the warm affection I've always felt for you?
I have within my pantry good store of all that's nice;
I'm sure you're very welcome; will you please to take a slice?"
"O no, no," said the little fly, "kind sir, that cannot be;
I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see."
"Sweet creature!' said the spider, "You're witty and you're wise,
How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!
I have a little looking-glass upon my parlor shelf,
If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself."
"I thank you, gentle sir,' she said, "for what you're pleased to say,
And bidding you good-morning now, I'll call another day."
The spider turned him round about, and went into his den,
For well he knew the silly fly would soon be back again:
So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly,
And set his table ready to dine upon the fly.
Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing,
"Come hither, hither, pretty fly, with the pearl and silver wing:
Your robes are green and purple; there's a crest upon your head;
Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead."
Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little fly,
Hearing his wily flattering words, came slowly flitting by.
With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew,
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue;
Thinking only of her crested head--poor foolish thing! At last,
Up jumped the cunning spider, and fiercely held her fast.
He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,
Within his little parlor; but she ne'er came out again!
And now, dear little children, who may this story read,
To idle, silly, flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed;
Unto an evil counselor close heart, and ear, and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale of the Spider and the Fly.
13 comments:
I suppose I must fall on the spider's side, even though reluctantly.
His intelligence trumps my sympathy for the vain and simple fly.
Although, if he chances to enters into my parlor, the sympathy ends.
You were supposed to save it for a snowy day!!
My sympathies are with the fly. She was so human.
Me too. She is very human indeed. And she reminds us of our weaknesses.
Human weaknesses abound, I'd rather be reminded of the intellectual potential of humanity.
Although, the spider is to be held to task for his Machiavellian intent, also an all too common human foible.
So ~ conceit, vanity, and foolishness versus malignant intelligence...I'd still have to go with the spider.
Intelligence bequeaths one with the ability to change (acted upon or not), whereas fatuousness leads only to the parlor.
The parlor is where the tea and crumpets are served, however.
Yes, the spider s all-too-human also.
There's no good fiction without an evil character or two.
And the fly takes more exercise so she is more politically correct.
Political correctness is not necessarily commendable. On the surface a good thing, but deep underneath perhaps a way of undermining free thought?
After all, if you are to be politically correct, you are following the dictates of the masses. Good or bad.
Didn't work out so well for the lemmings.
Exercise on the other hand is non debatable. Case in point: if I had more of it I wouldn't be sitting here in the throes of insomnia thinking about spiders, flies, and the human condition.
Now, where did I stash those crumpets?
I enjoy your repartee. Funny.
I ate 'em all.
Cheryl takes my whimsy seriously sometimes.
The lazy spider misses all the lovely sights, sounds, and smells the fly experiences as she buzzes around outside.
The people who tolerate my babbling of this sort are few and far between...Priscilla is good for the shy bookworm I used to be. I had let that part of myself fade away.
Dang, not one crumpet left?
Good thing I decided to start my diet today: uh~oh I feel an Ode coming on...
Ode to a New Day
The spiders will be cast out to carouse with the flies,
I shall set aside the crumpets for the sake of my thighs.
As my dimensions lessen my horizons will grow.
No longer will I sit in gloom and woe.
If you come a calling on a warm summer night,
I'll be out dancing with the spiders in the fireflies' light.
Ok, back to chores...company is coming over tonight :)
Ode to a new day? Okay!
Carousing spiders beside her... Dieting for the shake of your thighs?...Can no longer stow your own crumpet? Grow your own strumpet? Strow your own grumpit? Hmm. Time to go to bed.
"Dieting for the shake of your thighs?"
HaHa!!!! Exactly!!!
To grow a strumpet, one must start by collecting the spores of morels, the loose variety of course.
I enjoyed the midnight musings - the throw of words into a forms of images - a delight to behold.
BUT - I can't feel much philosophical significance to either side - very unphilosophical, I will physically remove both from my house if they dare to encroach!
P.S. This was the first time I have actually seen the poem - I got the uncomfortable feeling that I could hear seductive music with a malevolent undercurrent playing in the background ....
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