COBWEBS - The spider as an artist

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The spider as an artist
Has never been employed
Though his surpassing merit
Is freely certified

By every broom and Bridget
Throughout a Christian land.
Neglected son of genius,
I take thee by the hand.

More poems by Emily Dickinson

I many times thought peace had come, / When peace was far away;

The sun kept setting, setting still; / No hue of afternoon

It's like the light, -- / A fashionless delight

One blessing had I, than the rest / So larger to my eyes