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 maric'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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