COBWEBS - The spider as an artist
The spider as an artist / Has never been employed
No rack can torture me,
My soul's at liberty
Behind this mortal bone
There knits a bolder one
You cannot prick with saw,
Nor rend with scymitar.
Two bodies therefore be;
Bind one, and one will flee.
The eagle of his nest
No easier divest
And gain the sky,
Than mayest thou,
Except thyself may be
Thine enemy;
Captivity is consciousness,
So's liberty.
The spider as an artist / Has never been employed
Doubt me, my dim companion! / Why, God would be content
AH, Teneriffe! / Retreating Mountain!
Exultation is the going / Of an inland soul to sea, --