VALLE] THE CIDER VAT 347 



his wings and the warm life that was there. So a very hard task 

 was before me. I wanted him always and I knew his life would be 

 short. Silk worms do not eat and in a day or two he would have 

 battered not only his wings to pieces but also his poor little life 

 away. There was just one thing to do and with trembling fingers 

 and a limip in my throat, I tmscrewed the top from the cyanide 

 jar and gently put Abimelech in. 



We often look in the little mahogany case where Abimelech 

 sleeps beside the beautiful skein of golden silk and as we look we 

 think of the happy hours we spent in feeding and caring for him. 



The Cider Vat 

 By Isabel VallE 



'Tis dusk, but to the vat still clings 



One wasp, adream and mellow; 

 Forgotten, friends and foes with stings 



And nest and mate. . . rash fellow ! 

 He does not know t'is damp and dark, 

 Past sun-lit clouds he soars, a lark 

 Up in the Blue ! 

 If he but knew .... 



The spider folk are waiting round 

 For tangle-foot and tipsy ; 



Let him but once fall to the groimd, 

 Poor little striped gipsy, 

 They will not handle him with mits, 

 But drag him down in tiny bits 

 Back from the Blue ! 

 If he but knew . . . 

 Who, dizzy falls from daring heights 

 Ne'er balance rnay recover; 

 The rosy pathway cider lights 

 Leads to the brink . . . and over . . . 

 An apple 'twas at dawTi of time 

 That drew man back from the Sublime, 

 Down from the Blue, 

 If he but knew ! 



