AUTUMN TIDES 



fairy net, invisible at midday and which the 

 position of the sun now reveals, rests upon 

 the stubble and upon the spears of grass 

 covering acres in extent, the work of in- 

 numerable little spiders. The cattle walk 

 through it, 'but do not seem to break it. 

 Perhaps a fly would make his mark upon it. 

 At the same time, stretching from the tops 

 of the trees, or from the top of a stake in 

 the fence, and leading off toward the sky, 

 may be seen the cables of the flying spider, 

 a fairy bridge from the visible to'the. in- 

 visible. Occasionally seen against a deep 

 mass of shadow, and perhaps enlarged by 

 clinging particles of dust, they show quite 

 plainly and sag down like a stretched rope, 

 or sway and undulate like a hawser in the 

 tide. 



They recall a verse of our rugged poet, 

 Walt Whitman : 



" A noiseless patient spider, 



I mark'd where, in a little promontory, it stood isolated: 

 Mark'd how, to explore the vacant, vast surrounding, 

 It launch'd forth filament, filament, filament out of itself ; 

 Ever unreeling them ever tirelessly spreading them. 



" And you, O my soul, where you stand, 

 Surrounded, surrounded, in measureless oceans of space, 

 Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, 

 Seeking the spheres to connect them ; 

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