COCOON LIFE AND BABYHOOD. 



221 



One of the young ladies in the natural history class of the school wrote 

 and published in the " Ogontz Mosaic" a versified account of the above 

 colony, which I venture to add, as a pleasant description of and happy 

 comment upon the incident. It may at least serve to brighten for a mo- 

 ment the dullness of these pages of details, and show that one may 

 find a gleam of poetic fancy even in the babyhood of despised Arachne's 

 children. 



THE CHILDREN OF THE SPIDER WEB. 



UNDER a Jack-in-the-pulpit's t-aiv, 



Where the shadows arc deep, and the sunlight rare 



Tenderly kisses the maiden hair, 



A loving mother made her nest, 



And never did rest 



Till flossy blankets and silken sheet 



Enelosed her eggs in a safe retreat. 



The brood was safe, but the mother dead, 



For love's last aet spent life's last thread, 



And the fair cocoon was left to swing 



Till winter's snow dissolved in spring. 



The air was warm and the sunshine soft ; 



To and fro the bree/.es tossed 



The tiny hammock of shining threads, 



Of shimmering, silvery spider webs. 



Far from the sounds of w.ir and strife 



Were the spider babies wooed to life. 



On one bright day they all awoke, 



Their prison doors they burst and broke ; 



And, peeping through the barriers white, 



Discovered a wonderful world of light. 



With glad surprise they looked around, 



Then a daring one, with a single bound, 



Went dancing down on a tiny thread, 



Making his own little spider web. 



Graceful and airy, 



A real fairy, 

 He entered this new found land of glory. 



The days went by, and the babies grew. 

 Were their pleasures many, their sorrows few? 

 Or within the silken canopy 

 Was there acted out a tragedy? 



****** < 



Shall we e'er know the source 



Of that wonderful force 

 liy which the good little mother wove 

 Her babies' cradle with threads of love? 

 Why the eggs are laid by the little wife? 

 Mow the sunlight laughs them into life? 

 Where the shadows are deep, and the sunshine rare 

 Tenderly kisses the maiden hair, 

 Beneath the Jack-in-the-pulpit rest 

 The mysteries of the spider's nest. 



